


They’re Just Children

by TheManOfManyFandoms



Series: DreamSMP Angst and Comfort [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Clay | Dream & Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy Angst, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Found Family, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Angst, Toby Smith | Tubbo and TommyInnit are Siblings, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Floris | Fundy, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheManOfManyFandoms
Summary: The story of two child soldiers, from the moment they meet to the day that they imprison their greatest enemy.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: DreamSMP Angst and Comfort [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052576
Comments: 107
Kudos: 254





	1. The Before Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important moments, from the day Tommy and Tubbo met to the day that they head to the DreamSMP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help, I’m actually really emotional about my own fic lmfaoo. As usual, this is all about the characters on the DreamSMP and not the real people!
> 
> This is by far the longest chapter I’ve ever written, so...  
> Enjoy!!!

Tommy and Tubbo first meet in mid-June, when they’re six years old. Tubbo’s hanging out of the window of his little treehouse, when he sees a blonde, messy-haired little boy marching determinedly through the forest. “Hello?” Tubbo calls down and the boy looks up, hair flopping into his eyes. 

”Hi!” The boy shouts, waving, with both tiny hands.

”Do you wanna come up to my treehouse?” Tubbo asks and the boy nods eagerly. Tubbo opens the door, “Ignore the sign! I don’t think it counts for you.”

The sign in question (taped to the door) reads, in a childish scrawl: **_D_ o N _o_ T ****E _n_ t** _ **r!**_ **!**

The boy climbs up the ladder clumsily and Tubbo helps pull him up. “What d’you think about my treehouse?” Tubbo asks, clapping his hands, in anticipation.

“I like it here!” the boy declares, looking around, with innocent excitement.

“Yay!” Tubbo cheers. “I’m Tubbo Underscore! What’s _your_ name?”

”Tubbo’s a dumb name,” the boy giggles, “I’m Tommy Innit!”

”Well, _I_ think _that’s_ a dumb name,” Tubbo pouts.

”I think I like you,” Tommy announces. Tubbo grins.

—————

Tommy visits Tubbo every day for the next week and the two start to grow close. One day, the two of them are sitting in the treehouse, when Tommy suddenly asks, “Do you live here?”

”Yeah!” Tubbo nods.

”D’you have people you live with?” Tommy asks, sounding a little concerned.

”Uh, nope!” Tubbo shrugs.

”Have you _ever_ lived with anyone?”

”Ummm, I don’t remember,” Tubbo says truthfully.

Whole face scrunching up, in thought, Tommy falls silent for a moment. Finally, he says, “I know! You can come and live with me and my family!”

Tubbo stares at him, eyes wide with excitement, “Can I?”

”Yeah! Of course!” Tommy grins excitedly, “C’mon! Let’s go right now!” Grabbing Tubbo by the hand, Tommy jumps to his feet and tugs the older boy along after him. 

—————  
Tommy drags Tubbo to a decently sized, two-story house made out of wood and stone. The house is settled cozily in the middle of a meadow and Tubbo gasps, when he sees bees flitting around, in the flowers.

"Dad! Wilby! Techie!" Tommy shouts into the house. A fairly tall, curly-haired boy comes running down the stairs to greet him.

"Heya, Toms!" Pulling him into a hug, the boy eyes Tubbo with curiosity. Despite the look being friendly enough, Tubbo ducks his head, feeling suddenly bashful. "Who's your friend?" The dark-haired boy questions, as he releases his little brother.

Tubbo ducks behind Tommy, mumbling, " 'm Tubbo."

"Hi, Tubbo," the boy greets, crouching down so he's eye level, with Tubbo, "My name's Wilbur! It's very nice to meet you." His voice has gone softer and it makes some of Tubbo's sudden shyness dissipate.

He peeks out from behind Tommy and gives Wilbur a little wave. "How old are you, Tubbo?" Wilbur asks.

Tubbo holds six fingers up and Wilbur gasps overdramatically. It makes Tubbo and Tommy both giggle. "Good heavens! Pretty soon you won't have enough fingers to show how big you are, will you?"

Tubbo shakes his head, smiling shyly. He decides right then and there that he likes Wilbur.

"I'm big too!" Tommy cuts in and Wilbur rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Of course you are, Toms," he says, in a placating tone. "I'm twelve," he adds to Tubbo, "Same as my twin! His name's Techno! And he’s not _really_ my twin, but we have the same birthday so he might as well be."

Two more people enter the room then and Tubbo grabs onto Wilbur's hand for reassurance, when Tommy runs off to hug the taller one. The taller has shoulder-length, blonde hair and a funny looking hat. The other, who looks to be the same age as Wilbur, has bright pink hair that falls all the way to his waist.

"Tommy brought home another stray, Dad," Wilbur jokes and the blonde-haired man laughs loudly. It's a comforting, contagious sort of laugh and Tubbo tentatively resolves to like him too.

"Hey, mate, my name's Philza, but you can call me Phil," the man informs the boy, crouching down just like Wilbur, "What's yours?"

"Tubbo," he whispers.

"I think that's a lovely name," Phil says, with a smile.

"Tommy said it's dumb," Tubbo blurts out.

Phil's lips twitch, "Did he now?"

"Well, that's 'cause it _is_ ," Tommy protests, pouting.

"Be nice," Phil scolds gently and Tommy huffs.

The pink-haired boy laughs quietly from where he's been hovering awkwardly in the doorway. When Tubbo turns to look at him, he waves awkwardly. "My name's Technoblade," he starts.

"But we just call him Techno!" Tommy jumps in.

"Or The Blade," Wilbur adds, laughing at Techno's irritated expression.

"Yes, thank you," he says, sounding annoyed. Tubbo's not as sure about liking this one.

"Where does your family live, Tubbo?" Phil asks.

"Haven't got any," Tubbo tells him casually. He misses the horrified expressions on all, but Tommy's, face.

"Where do you get your food from?" Phil questions, sounding concerned.

"The village people are nice!" Tubbo says, smiling, "They give me food!"

"Well, that's good, at least," Phil breathes.

"Can he live with us, Dad?" Tommy asks, tugging on Phil's sleeve, "He was livin' in a treehouse all by himself!"

"If he has nowhere else to go, I'd be happy for him to live here," Phil smiles.

Tommy cheers and flings his arms around Tubbo's neck, in a bone-crushing hug. Wilbur starts a chant of 'New brother' that Tommy joins in with gusto. Techno rolls his eyes, but gives Tubbo a quick pat on the head that feels both painfully awkward and sweet.

That day, is one that Tubbo remembers for a very long time.

—————  
A few weeks after Tubbo had started living with the family, he drags Tommy up to a little hill near the house. "We're gonna make flower crowns!" He tells Tommy, with a grin, as they sit down.

”That sounds _boring_ ,” Tommy whines and Tubbo laughs.

”It’s not boring!” Tubbo says, “I’ll teach you how to do it!” He makes Tommy help him pick flowers, before weaving the brightest red and yellow ones together to form a crown that looks all the more lovely for its imperfections.

Plopping it onto Tommy’s head, Tubbo claps his hands together, in excitement. “It looks awesome!” He says happily.

Tommy wrinkles his nose, in response, but gives in, with a sigh, “Show how to do it.” Tubbo guides the little hands, with his own small ones around the stems of the flowers, grinning whenever Tommy manages to do it on his own.

Tommy’s first attempt is messy and full of more greenery than flowers, but it’s so endearingly characteristic that Tubbo loves it just the same, when the other boy crowns him, with a proud grin. They work together to craft three more wondrous creations, such as the first two, and then return home in triumph to the rest of the family.

The first that they present the gift to is Wilbur, who showers it, with praise. "Who could have possibly made this?" Wilbur asks, placing it on his head overcautiously.

"Me and Tubs!" Tommy says, grinning.

" _You_?" Wilbur asks, pretending to be shocked, "I thought it was made by a professional, for sure!" Tommy and Tubbo laugh happily at this praise and Wilbur pulls them both into a tight, overbearing hug, before joining them to see Techno's reaction.

Techno, who accepts the offering, with a solemnity that belies the situation. "Just put it on!" Tommy bounces around the room, with impatience.

Techno snorts with laughter and sets the crown on his head. Snatching up a nearby blanket, he throws it over his shoulders like a cape. "Nerd," Wilbur coughs into his hand and the pink-haired boy gives him a look of mock-offense.

"I have been crowned Prince of the Flowers," Techno says impressively, despite his laughter, "Kneel before me, peasant!"

"I won’t ever kneel to anyone," Wilbur says. He's very clearly joking, but there's a glint of _something_ in his eyes that has never been there before. Nobody notices and the expression fades, as fast as it had appeared.

The last member of the family to receive a crown, is Phil, who replaces his usual hat, with the crown of flowers, in an instant. He scoops Tommy and Tubbo up in his arms, wings unfurling to wrap around them both. “I’ll treasure it forever,” he promises and both young boys grin ear to ear.

Phil keeps his promise; wearing it faithfully, until it’s almost dead. At that point, he presses it, in order to preserve the flowers and keeps it in a scrapbook of memories, full of miscellaneous items and carefully kept pictures. On the page opposite the crown, is the very first picture of Tubbo to go into the scrapbook.

It’s one of Tommy and Tubbo up on that same hill; Tubbo is weaving flowers together absent-mindedly and Tommy has his arms slung around the older boy’s neck, refusing to let go. It’s remarkably endearing and, throughout the years, it’s a photograph that the boys regard with both fondness and embarrassment.

—————

Tubbo’s been living with the family for half a year, when his birthday rolls around. He’s awoken to Tommy pouncing on him and shaking him awake, with yells of excitement. It’s almost as if it’s _Tommy’s_ birthday, with how excited the younger boy is. He practically pushes Tubbo down the stairs, in his effort to get him to go faster and the, now seven year old, Tubbo can’t find it in himself to be irritated.

He honestly hadn’t expected much, but he’s greeted in the kitchen, by three voices saying, “Happy birthday!”

Four presents, wrapped with varying degrees of neatness, are waiting for him on the kitchen table and Tubbo gapes at it all. “Open mine first! Open mine first!” Tommy urges, pointing to a bag, with tissue paper stuffed in at random.

Tubbo complies, as the rest of the family looks on, with fond smiles. Inside the bag, is a red bandanna, with the letters ‘T U’ carefully stitched on the inside. “Techno made it and Wilbur did that bit!” Tommy says excitedly, pointing at the letters, “But it was all my idea and I picked out the color and everything! Red is the coolest color in the world and _you’re_ the coolest _person_ in the world, so that’s why.” He pauses, before saying, in a shyer voice, “D’you like it?”

Tubbo just tackles him, in a hug, by way of a response. Phil and Wilbur both ‘aw’ and Techno says, “Affection. Disgusting,” though his smile is audible. Phil helps Tubbo tie the, slightly too large, bandanna around his neck and he wears it on most days for a very long time.

Phil’s present is a massive plushie of a bumblebee and Tubbo hugs it to his chest, for the rest of the day. Techno’s gift is a children’s storybook. They only realize later that Tubbo has more trouble reading it, than most kids his age.

Tubbo doesn’t understand Wilbur’s present at first, but he explains its purpose patiently. It’s a compass, glowing a gentle shade of purple and Tubbo turns it over in his hands, liking the smooth feeling of the metal sides. “It’s a lodestone compass,” Wilbur tells him, a gentle smile on his face, “And it always points right here; to this house. That way, if you ever get lost, or just need a place to land, you can always find your way back home.”

Home. That’s something that Tubbo’s never had before. He’s never really referred to this house as ‘home’ before. It’s always been _Tommy’s_ family, _Tommy’s_ home, but, suddenly, it strikes Tubbo that, maybe, it can be all of those things for _him_ too.

After that day, it _is_ those things for him and Tubbo can’t imagine calling anything, but those familiar walls, ‘home’ for a very long time. 

—————

In the weeks before Tommy’s seventh birthday, Tubbo commissions a matching bandanna to be made, by Wilbur and Techno. This one is _green_ instead of red, with the letters ‘T I’ written in Wilbur’s careful stitching.

Tommy is absolutely thrilled with it and wears it, as faithfully as Tubbo wears his. The two have only known each other for a little less than a year, but, to an outsider, they would probably look as if they’d known each other their entire lives.

—————

When Tommy and Tubbo are nine years old, Techno and Wilbur take it upon themselves to teach them skills that they find useful. Phil encourages it, always seeming glad when all four manage to get along.

Techno, at fifteen years old, is already _very_ good at combat and is eager to teach the younger boys the basics. He had been thirteen, when he had begun to hear voices and he quickly discovered that they're calmed easiest, when he was fighting. So, he picked up both archery and swordplay and devoted much of his time to both crafts.

Tommy is drawn to these lessons like a moth to a light and he picks it up fairly quickly. Tubbo, on the other hand feels clumsy and awkward, with the wooden practice blade in his hands and trips over his own feet, more often than he gets the movements right.

Wilbur endeavors to teach the boys the skills of an orator, or a songwriter; showing them how to write eloquent little speeches and how to draw a crowd, with just a few words. Tommy finds the hours spent indoors infinitely boring, though Tubbo finds it much more interesting than learning how to fight.

Eventually, Techno gives up trying to make Tubbo stay upright and Wilbur gives up trying to make Tommy sit still. It becomes more and more common, over that year to see Tommy and Techno practicing increasingly complex fighting maneuvers, in the backyard with wooden swords; while Tubbo and Wilbur sit at a window, where they can watch the others easily, and write lovely songs and speeches together.

Tommy’s small hands learn, for the first time, how to grip a sword tight between them and he uses the techniques taught to him, in a quite unique way. He swings and lunges, with a reckless, carefree abandon that both exasperates and impresses Technoblade. Meanwhile, Tubbo’s small voice begins to learn how to give shape to the big thoughts in his head. Occasionally he spouts off a line, or two, that makes Wilbur stare at him, with an excited glimmer in his eyes.

Tommy and Tubbo are as inseparable, as ever, and, with their newfound skills, they compliment each other more than ever. They balance each other out, in a way that they never have before.

Phil watches both practices, whenever he gets the opportunity, to and nobody is more proud of all four of his boys.

—————

It’s when the two are ten years old that Phil starts to take Techno on long adventures, with him, leaving a sixteen year old Wilbur in charge of his younger brothers. Wilbur takes it upon himself to make up for Techno’s absence and continues Tommy’s training, whenever the pink-haired teen is gone.

Wilbur makes sure that Tubbo knows the basics of fighting, as well (even though Tubbo would rather be doing practically anything else) and makes Tommy attend some of Tubbo’s lessons, perhaps in an attempt to curb Tommy’s increasingly rash tongue.

Techno and Phil’s day trips turn into weeks, which, on occasion, turn into months. Tommy and Tubbo aren’t quite old enough to notice the stress, lining Wilbur’s too-young face, but they _do_ notice the way that Wilbur is always around (even when Techno and Phil aren’t) and love him all the better for it.

Once, when they’re eleven, it’s the night after the others had returned from one of their longer trips and Tommy and Tubbo hear arguing from downstairs, after they go to bed. Creeping to their door, they poke their heads out to listen.

”I can’t do it alone, like this,” Wilbur’s voice is saying, sounding on the edge of tears.

”You’re doing just fine, mate,” Phil’s voice says, a dismissive edge to his tone.

” _No_ , I’m not!” Wilbur says desperately, “I’m so tired all the time and I’m always so worried that they’re going to get into trouble that I can’t help them out of.”

”They’re old enough to look after themselves, for the most part. You don’t have to do too much,” Phil says easily.

”It’s not fair!” Wilbur shouts at him, “How come everyone I know who’s my age gets to be a kid, but _I_ don’t? Just because you and Techno want to go all around the fucking world, without your family.”

”That’s enough, Will,” Phil says sharply.

” _Fuck_ you,” Wilbur says and he’s almost certainly crying now, “You’re a shit dad.”

”I said that’s _enough_ , Wilbur,” Phil says, in a tone brooking no argument, “You need to calm down. Go to bed and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

”No, we won’t,” Wilbur says quietly, “You’ll just come up with some other excuse and we’ll never talk about this again.”

”Go to bed, Will.”

So soft the boys can hardly hear it, “I hate you.”

A sigh and then, just as soft, “I know.” 

The stairs creak, as someone starts to climb up them, and Tommy and Tubbo snap their door shut, staring at each other with wide, shocked eyes. They go to bed, feeling shaken and neither can manage to fall asleep, until late that night.

Things are different after that, between Wilbur and Phil. Wilbur only talks to Phil, if he really, truly has to and, even then, his words are stilted and formal. Phil tries to keep up a sense of normalcy, but Wilbur doesn’t even allow the man to _hug_ him anymore. Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno are left awkwardly somewhere in the middle.

Techno is alway inclined to take Phil’s side, in arguments, but Tommy and Tubbo almost always side with Wilbur. After all, Wilbur has done a better job of parenting them than Phil has, for the past year.

—————

Tommy _really_ starts to understand the way that Phil has become neglectful on his twelfth birthday. Phil and Techno had left three days prior, with earnest promises to be back in time to celebrate, with the rest of the family. 

When Tommy clatters down the staircase that morning, beaming with excitement, he’s greeted by two faces instead of four. Two hugs, instead of four. Two presents, instead of four. Wilbur presses a letter into his hand, a myriad of apologies in his eyes. Tommy opens the letter, with shaking hands.

It contains one small paragraph that half-heartedly apologizes for not being able to make it. It’s signed by both Techno and Phil, with a present of a single emerald attached. “Oh,” Tommy says quietly, staring at the items in his hands. 

He crumples the letter, in one shaking fist and throws it across the table, pocketing the emerald. Rubbing hard at his eyes, with both fists, he wills himself not to cry. Somehow, it works and he looks up, with a grin and an eagerness to move onto the next presents.

He doesn’t realize at the time, but something pure and innocent disappears from his eyes that day. All he knows is that Wilbur is more furious with their father than ever and, for the first time, he truly understands _why_.

—————

It’s around this time that Technoblade starts to compete in tournaments; throwing himself into his fighting harder than ever and becoming increasingly distant to the family he had once been close to. He moves out of their little house and into the city, to be closer to any opportunity that might present itself. At eighteen years old, he’s labelled a prodigy, by his ability to amaze every judge and audience that sees him in action.

He starts to talk of a rival, in these competitions. A rival, by the name of Dream. Dream, apparently, has also been called a prodigy, by many, and is the only one who can keep pace with Techno.

Once, he brings Dream home to introduce him to the rest of the family. The man is wearing a mask, when he arrives, that unsettles Tommy greatly. Even when he takes it off, there’s something about him that Tommy doesn’t quite trust. He shakes hands with the whole family and Tommy’s glad to see that Wilbur appears to share his mistrust.

Techno had always referred to him as a rival, but the way they talk together and share inside jokes, speaks more of _friendship_ than rivalry.

“I’m thinking of founding something of a nation soon,” Dream tells them all, over dinner, “I can’t fight in the arenas for my entire life and, with the money I’m getting, I can block off a pretty large section of the world.”

”Why are you telling _us_ this?” Wilbur asks.

”Because you all seem very... interesting,” Dream says, shrugging, “I could probably use people like you there. Don’t tell them I said this, but my friends can get pretty boring after a while.”

”That’s not very nice,” Tubbo speaks up, picking at his food, with his fork.

”It’s just a joke,” Dream laughs dismissively, “It’s fine.”

”Mm,” Tubbo responds, mouth thinning.

All in all, Dream leaves a pretty good impression and Tommy can’t lie to himself; the prospect of moving to a whole different nation sounds like an exciting adventure. “Mr. Minecraft,” Dream says, as he’s leaving, “I’ll write to you, when I’m ready for any of your kids to come to my nation, yeah?”

”Sure thing, mate,” Phil smiles, “I’m sure they’d all be happy for the opportunity.”

”Well, don’t forget about me,” Dream laughs, as he secures his mask back onto his face. They don’t forget about him. In fact, not one of them is given the opportunity to forget about him, for the rest of their lives.

—————

The letter comes, when Tommy and Tubbo are fourteen. They return home after a day of exploring the woods, to Wilbur brandishing a letter in their faces. “Here we are, lads,” he exclaims, “Guess who it’s from?”

”Phil?” Tubbo guesses.

”Techno?” Tommy pitches in, head in the refrigerator, as he raids it for any cold drink he can find.

”Both wrong!” Wilbur grins, “It’s from Dream!” 

Tommy gasps and pulls his head out of the fridge, so fast that he hits his head on the top of it. Rubbing the back of his head, he says, “He wants us all to come to his nation?”

Wilbur’s smile fades slightly, “Well, he only wants you two for now... But it’s okay! I’m really happy for both of you!”

Some of the pure joy and excitement, that had bubbled up in Tommy, is flattened at the knowledge that they’ll have to leave Wilbur. Still, Will is happy for them, so that means that it’s okay for them to be happy too. Besides, Dream will probably invite Will sometime soon. They probably won’t have to wait too long for him to join them. 

So, Tommy joins Tubbo in his victory dance, without too much guilt and they both allow Wilbur to squeeze them in a tight hug. They write to Phil to tell him the news and he responds with a letter, saying that he won’t be able to come home in time to see them off, but that he’s happy for them all the same.

The boys push down their disappointment and pack up, trying to feel nothing, but excitement. Dream comes a week after his letter to pick them up and lead them to the borders of his nation, the DreamSMP, and they hug Wilbur an, admittedly tearful, goodbye. They look back at Wilbur’s waving figure for as long as they can, until they round a bend and can’t see him anymore. 

Wilbur waves until he’s sure that they’re well and truly gone, before returning, with a deep sense of loneliness, into the very quiet, very empty house. Tommy and Tubbo greet this new adventure, with bright smiles, cheery laughs and the childish certainty that nothing at all could go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’VE BEEN SLAVING AWAY IN THE WRITING FACTORY FOR DAYS TO GET THIS FIC STARTED. I’M HONESTLY SO HYPED FOR IT. MMMMMMMM ME GUSTA BACKSTORIES AND CHARACTER STUDY WITH PLOT.
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks are all hella appreciated, but please, I beg of you to drop a comment if you liked it. I need validation lmfaoo.
> 
> Also, do you guys understand how powerful the name Tubbo Underscore sounds?? I accept zero criticism on this. /lh


	2. The Birth Of A Nation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first wars of the DreamSMP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: slightly graphic descriptions of violence
> 
> Any dialogue that you recognize comes from the DreamSMP streams! Also, I would like to put it out there that I subscribe to the belief that Fundy’s mother was a shapeshifter lmao.
> 
> Fellow trans masc people! Come get ya’lls Trans Fundy juice!
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing that Dream does is introduce the boys to his friends. Sapnap, who’s only about eighteen, is... _interesting_ to say the least (he talks about arson a little too much to be comfortable.) George, twenty-two, is too reserved for either of them to get a good read on. The three of them call themselves ‘The Dream Team’ and Tommy tells them point-blank that he think the name is lame.

None of the other members of the SMP stop to talk to them, though they catch a glimpse of a man with a gold chain around his neck and diamonds in his hands. He gives them a nod that, though both would die before admitting it, is pretty intimidating.

Dream tells them that they’re free to build whatever structures they want, so Tommy, naturally, burrows into the side of a hill like a mole and sets up a bunker made of packed earth and wobbly, stone supports. He helps Tubbo set up a house nearby, of the older teen’s design. It turns out much nicer than either had expected and Tubbo settles in quickly.

He builds a large bee farm nearby and it’s not uncommon to see him just sitting inside the farm and grinning at the bees. Tommy joins him sometimes and they start a new collection of photos. The first of these, one of Tubbo laughing at a bee resting on his finger, is hung up in the Community House along with all of the memoirs left by others on the server.

The DreamSMP is just starting to feel like home, when Tommy finds two, seemingly innocuous discs. Discs that, apparently, Dream wants. Discs that Tommy refuses to give up. This war is light and filled with laughter and playful screams. It feels like a game. It’s a feeling that’s encouraged by Dream; and the Disc War is almost _fun_. 

Even when they’re pushing each other off of pillars, and even when Ponk’s lemon tree is burned down, it just feels like playing pretend. It’s Tubbo and Tommy versus Dream and they feel as if they could do anything at all that they set their minds too. They’re half convinced that they could even lasso the moon out of the sky, if they put their heads together and try hard enough.

Tommy and Tubbo win the Disc War. They kill Dream and they retrieve both of the discs. They sit on the Bench together, Cat playing softly in the background, and they look at each other and they _laugh_. Their laughter is young and innocent and euphoric and, sitting there, shoulders pressed against each other, they feel as if they could conquer the world.

—————

They’ve been living in the DreamSMP for six months, when Wilbur finally arrives, revolution hot on his heels. It hasn’t been _very_ long since they’ve seen each other, but Wilbur looks older, more mature, despite his boisterous laughter and sparkling eyes. With him, comes a little fox boy, who he says, with much pride and affection, is his son. The fox’s name is Fundy and, apparently, though looking around six years old, hasn’t been alive for very long.

”His kind age quickly, until they’re about the equivalent of a human sixteen year old,” Wilbur says, ruffling the fur on the top of Fundy’s head. ”He _was_ my daughter,” Will adds, looking at the boy, with a tender pride that neither of his brothers have ever seen from him before, “But he wanted to change it and, obviously, I was okay with that. So now he’s my son!”

”Good for him,” Tommy nods, with a smile and Tubbo makes a noise of agreement.

Tommy and Tubbo grow extremely attached to their little nephew, even as he, in both appearance and mind, rapidly surpasses them in age. All three of the brothers shower the fox-boy in affection and, though he appears embarrassed whenever they do so publicly, he’s very fond of them all as well.

The teenagers learn quickly not to ask what had happened to Fundy’s mother, because Wilbur’s face will close off and he’ll mutter something about ‘the best weeks of his life’, before falling stubbornly silent. Likewise, he refuses to give them news of Techno and Phil, only saying tightly, “Phil and Techno are minding their own business and we should mind ours.”

One day, Wilbur shows Tommy a caravan that he had labeled ‘The Camarvan’ and asks him if he wants to sell drugs. It doesn’t take much to get Tommy to agree and he and Wilbur terrorize the general population of the SMP for a few days. Tubbo watches contentedly from the sidelines for a while, but, when given the opportunity, he joins his brothers happily.

A new member of the server, named Eret, joins in as well, intrigued and excited by the rebellious activities. He and Tubbo start to build walls around the Camarvan, at the encouragement of Wilbur, and he starts to grow close to the little family. Tubbo, in particular, takes a great liking to her and the two are the group’s main source of resources, for a long while.

Dream tells them that they have to stop and, instead of acquiescing, Wilbur stares at the masked man, before laughing directly in his face. “Well, in that case? This is a sovereign nation, separate from your SMP. We are no longer apart of the DreamSMP. Now, kindly get out of my country.”

Dream’s body tenses and his tone is dark, when he says, “We’ll see.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Wilbur draws himself up to his full height, as he turns back to the Camarvan and the steely glint in his eye is one that neither Tommy or Tubbo have ever seen before.

—————

Wilbur stays up all night, drawing up the Declaration of Independance, but, when he emerges from his room in the morning, he’s grinning. He reads it aloud to them all, voice strong and filled with excitement, and they cheer, hearts soaring. The book is passed around and they all sign it, with a flourish. Their nation is named L’Manburg and Wilbur has already begun to pour his heart and soul into it.

”Viva La Revolution!” Tommy shouts, pumping a fist into the air, and the rest echo.

Dream gives them the Declaration of War and things start to change. At first, it’s regarded by Tommy and Tubbo, as the Disc Wars had been: like a game. Then, Tubbo’s house is razed to the ground and they start to think that, maybe, this time is going to be different.

As Tubbo stares around, in shock and horror, at the ash and ruins that used to be his home, his stomach drops. He turns to look at Tommy, who looks just as surprised as Tubbo feels and can’t help, but to feel a sense of dread.

When Tubbo returns to L’Manburg, Wilbur gives him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, before starting to gather up weapons. “This won’t go unpunished,” the general promises and they, all of them, set out to fight the Dream Team and Punz, Dream’s mercenary friend, who has chosen to side against L’Manburg.

—————

The two nations have many skirmishes over the next month or so, neither side quite able to outstrip the other. What the DreamSMP lacks in passion and spirit, they make up for in weaponry and skill (the direct opposite is true for L’Manburg.)

They’re all beginning to feel quite dispirited when, after one of these skirmishes, Eret tells the others that they’ve been working on a surprise. Tommy looks around at the others, with astonishment and eagerness, as Eret starts to lead them down a long tunnel. “Look at us,” the teen laughs, “Speed, violence, and momentum.”

What _is_ this place?” Wilbur asks, voice full of amusement and curiosity. It’s a dark room made entirely of blackstone, chests labeled for each of them around the walls.

”This is the Final Control Room,” Eret tells them, voice carefully steady.

”What does that button do?” Tommy asks, eyes flicking to the red button on a pedestal in the center of the room. Eret presses it, by way of an answer, a shark-like grin on his face. The grin of a predator, who has his prey trapped. She presses herself to the back of the room, as the walls open (every entrance slamming shut) and their enemies come crashing down on top of them.

”A traitor!” Wilbur screams, as Punz stabs him straight through the heart.

”Down with the revolution boys, it was never meant to be!” Eret yells, laughing, with a dark satisfaction. 

Tommy catches a glimpse of Fundy banging desperately, on what had once been an entrance and is now merely an imposing black wall, before George stabs him in the back and he collapses to the ground, still wailing.

”Tommy!” Tubbo screams desperately, but, before Tommy can do a thing, the older teen is brought down by Sapnap.

The last thing Tommy sees is Dream’s mask bearing down on him and he desperately yells for Eret’s help, terrified out of his mind. Dream’s sword comes down through Tommy’s stomach and the boy screams in pure agony, as his vision turns red. He hears, for just a moment, cheers of victory and Eret’s, once comforting, laughter, and then there’s nothing, but a silent void.

—————

Tommy wakes up, with a start, in the Camarvan. A scream dies on his tongue and he looks around urgently. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, Toms.” It’s Wilbur, who is sitting by his bed, bandages wrapped around his chest, and Tommy looks down to see bandages on his own midriff.

”What happened?” Tommy questions, throat feeling like sandpaper.

”Eret betrayed us,” Wilbur says grimly, voice low and rough, “The others are still out, but they’ll recover.”

”Wilby?” Tommy says quietly, feeling too small and too unsure, “I’ve... Death has never felt like that before.”

”I know, Toms, I know,” Wilbur says, opening his arms to offer a hug. Tommy wraps his arms around his brother and buries his face, in his shoulder. 

”We all just lost our first _real_ lives, didn’t we?” The teen asks, voice muffled.

Wilbur sighs deeply, rubbing comforting circles into Tommy’s back. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m _so_ sorry,” the man’s voice hitches and he falls silent.

—————

“Dad, I have _nothing_ ,” Fundy says, when they all awaken and meet to regroup.

”Same here,” Tubbo says quietly.

Tommy and Wilbur both nod in agreement. “Dream wants to see us at the gate,” Wilbur informs them all.

”And we don’t have a single thing to defend ourselves with,” Fundy breathes, burying his face in his hands.

”We’ll do what we can,” Wilbur says firmly, finally slipping back into the role of general, “Just stay with me.”

When they arrive at the gate, their enemies, including Eret, are waiting for them. Tubbo stares at Eret, vision blurring. “Eret, how could you?” He asks, voice breaking. He wants- no, _needs_ a reason. He needs to know _why_ Eret sold them out so easily.

Eret shrugs lightly and, though he’s smiling, he turns his head away uncomfortably. There’s a crown resting elegantly on their head and a cloak is wrapped around their shoulders. She looks regal. Tubbo’s never hated someone more. “Oh, him?” Dream tilts his head in Eret’s direction, “You can refer to him as ‘King Eret’ from now on.”

”So, _that’s_ why,” Tubbo breathes, “Power.”

”Do you surrender, General Soot?” Dream questions, staring up at Wilbur.

Wilbur takes a deep breath, looking around at the other three, before turning back to Dream. “Victory, or death. We would rather die, than give in, to you, and join your SMP,” he says, voice full of a confidence that he surely could not be feeling.

”We will light these sticks of dynamite, if you do not surrender,” Dream says, holding up a stack of dynamite.

”You can blow up one little stack of dynamite at our entrance, if you want,” Wilbur shrugs, “But we won’t ever surrender.”

“Your choice,” Dream shrugs and lights the stack of dynamite, he and his friends stepping back. On the other side, the L’Manburg boys shuffle back towards the Camarvan. 

Tubbo watches in dread, as the spark travels farther and farther down the fuse. Time seems to stop for a moment, as it hits the dynamite. And then the world turns upside down. It’s clear in an instant that dynamite had been planted underground, as the earth is ripped up from the inside out, leaving a small crater, where there had once been a pleasant, little meadow.

Dream is cackling, Fundy is making a fox-like chirp of distress, Wilbur is yelling to Tommy to save the Declaration of Independance, and Tubbo has somehow managed to lock eyes with Eret through the smoke. Even through the sunglasses, they look indifferent. For a moment, and only a moment, they hesitate. Then, they turn, cloak sweeping behind them, and they’re lost to Tubbo’s sight.

”Surrender now, or we will not show you mercy,” Dream commands and Tommy, for lack of a better word, snaps.

”You know what? Fuck you,” Tommy shouts at the top of his lungs, “How about we fight it out? Just the two of us? Duel on the bridge at sunset.”

”Tommy, calm!” Wilbur says, desperately trying to get Tommy to shut up, before he does something irreversible.

”No!” Tommy yells, “No! Are you going to duel me, Dream? Or are you too much of a pussy?”

”Fine,” Dream says flippantly, “You and me at sunset.” He offers his hand, for Tommy to shake and the teen takes it with a visible death grip.

Tommy glares up, into the man’s mask, as he shakes his hand and spits, “Get fucked.” Dream laughs, releasing Tommy’s hand, and waves mockingly over his shoulder, as he walks away.

—————

Tommy is (and there’s no other word for it) panicking. His bow is gripped tightly in his hand and he and Wilbur are walking in silence towards the Prime Path. “Do I shoot him, Will? Or do I aim for the skies?” He asks quietly.

”Tommy, I want you to do what your heart tells you,” Wilbur says, voice low and, in any other circumstance, Tommy would complain about that not being advice at all. Now, he just nods, heart pounding in his ears.

Tubbo, Fundy, Sapnap, and George are all waiting in anxious silence in the field next to the bridge. Dream is waiting for Tommy. Tommy mounts the steps to meet him. “If you win, L’Manburg wins its freedom,” Dream promises, “If _I_ win, you must surrender _and_ give me Cat.”

”Agreed,” Tommy says. His throat hurts.

“Ten paces, before firing,” Dream says and the teen nods tightly, in agreement.

” **1** ” Tommy knows that he can do this.

” **2** ” His hands are shaking.

” **3** ” He has to do this for the sake of L’Manburg.

” **4** ” There’s so much riding on his shoulders.

” **5** ” He’s good with a bow.

” **6** ” If he fails, the revolution fails.

” **7** ” He wonders vaguely if Phil would be proud of his victory.

” **8** ” Blood is rushing in his ears.

” **9** ” One good shot is all he needs.

” **10 paces fire!** ” Tommy chokes. He freezes for just a moment too long, before whirling around. He misses his shot. An arrow comes whizzing towards him and there’s a moment in time, where he stares down the tip of the arrow... and then it pierces him straight between the eyes.

—————

Tommy awakes with a pounding headache and the indisputable, bone deep knowledge that he had just lost his second life. Two lives gone, in the span of as many days. He’s down to one. He’s barely fifteen years old and he’s already down to a single life. He had given up his lives for L’Manburg and he doesn’t regret it, for even a second. He knows what he has to do.

Sucking up his pride, he opens his ender chest and snatches up Mellohi and Cat. He doesn’t respond to the others’ questioning, as he marches out of the Camarvan, through the gate of L’Manburg, up the Prime Path, and straight into the Community House.

”Dream,” he calls, voice rough and throat aching.

”Tommy?” Dream sounds surprised and Tommy tries, for just a moment, not to hate the man. Then, he remembers that mask smiling at him, as the man behind it takes two of Tommy’s lives and he falls short of anything, but hatred and boiling anger.

”I’ve come to bargain for L’Manburg’s freedom,” Tommy tells him, forcing himself to stand tall, even though he wants to do nothing more than collapse into bed and sleep for a week.

”Tommy, the deal was that if I won, L’Manburg has to surrender,” Dream says slowly, as if he’s speaking to a very young child.

It’s infuriating, but Tommy bites his tongue and holds up the discs, “Both of the discs, in exchange for complete independence.”

”You’re serious?” Dream breathes, shocked.

”Deathly.”

”I... accept,” Dream says, snatching up the discs, a smile in his voice, “I grant L’Manburg full independence, though it will still be recognized as part of the DreamSMP.”

”Fair enough,” Tommy nods and blinks away the tears stinging his eyes, as he watches Dream store the discs in his ender chest. 

”I’ll speak to General Soot later,” Dream informs him and Tommy nods weakly again. Turning, he makes his way back towards the, now free, L’Manburg. He should feel happy, elated even, and he does feel relief and excitement, but, mostly, he just feels empty. A Pyrrhic Victory, indeed.

—————

“Wilbur!” Tommy bellows, forcing a bright smile onto his face, “I did it! I won our independence!”

” _How_?” Wilbur asks, shocked.

”I gave up my discs,” Tommy informs him. Tubbo gasps from behind Wilbur and Tommy gives the other teen a grim smile.

”But- but your discs! They mean so much to you!” Wilbur breathes.

”L’Manburg means more,” Tommy insists, “I gave it up. It’s over now. We’re free.”

”I’m so proud of you, Tommy,” Wilbur pulls him into a tight hug and Tommy falls into it gratefully. He doesn’t cry, however much he wants to and he doesn’t cry, when he’s transferred to Fundy, and then, finally Tubbo. He doesn’t cry, when Dream officially recognizes their independence.

He doesn’t cry once. He doesn’t cry, until he crawls into bed that night, aching from head to foot, and sobs into his pillow, until he falls asleep.

—————

They begin to rebuild the parts of L’Manburg that had been blown up and, slowly but surely, it looks even more beautiful than before. Two new members of the country, Niki and Jack Manifold, help them to rebuild and Niki builds a bakery for herself and Fundy. The L’Manburg flag flies proudly on the highest point of their walls and everything should be perfect.

It would be perfect, too, if it weren’t for the nightmares. Wilbur gets them now, so does Tommy, so does Tubbo, and so does Fundy. One night, Tommy wakes up very early in the morning, practically hyperventilating; Eret’s smile imprinted on his eyelids and his sinister laugh ringing in his ears. 

Tommy jumps to his feet and leaves his house, practically tripping over his own feet in an effort to get out of the enclosed space, because oh _gods_ , what if the walls open up? And what if there’s a button? And what if Eret’s there to press it? And what if- what if- what if-

He finds himself wandering to Niki’s bakery, half hoping that she’ll be there and half hoping that she’ll still be asleep. It turns out that she _is_ there, kneading dough and humming to herself. She beckons Tommy in, looking surprised, but not displeased, at his presence. “Hi, Tommy!” She greets, with a soft smile.

”Hey, Niki,” he says shakily, sitting down at the counter and staring intently at the marble surface, as if it contains every answer in the world.

”You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” Niki tells him softly, “But I’m all ears if you want to talk.”

”Thanks,” Tommy grunts and she gives him a nod, before going back to calmly kneading dough. She’s humming Cat and it makes Tommy both nostalgic and sad. He joins in, after a few minutes, and the two finish the tune together.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been there, until he begins to see the sun starting to peek over the horizon, through the window. “I should probably get going,” he says, getting to his feet. “Thank you, Niki.”

”Tommy,” she calls him back and he pauses at the door. “My door is always open to you, alright?”

”Yeah, sounds good, big man- big woman?” Tommy dithers awkwardly.

Niki laughs softly, “Go on, gremlin child.” He leaves then, giving her a wave over his shoulder. Neither of them speak of that morning again, but a new understanding seems to exist between the two of them, after that. 

Tommy catches up with Tubbo and the two throw themselves into the efforts to build new houses and buildings, with gusto. When they allow themselves a break, they stop and look at each other for a moment. There’s a shadow on both of their faces that never used to be there and it’s clear in their eyes that they’ve seen terrible things. 

Despite this, they’re still the same boys, who used to make flower crowns, up on that little hill. They’re still the same boys, who had played at being warriors, when they were young. And they’re still the same boys, who can accomplish anything, as long as they’re together. So, they give each other a quick grin and turn back to their work, with the knowledge that, no matter what, it’s them against the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this one! This story is my word baby lmao 
> 
> Kudos/comments/bookmarks are all super appreciated! I literally wrote this for four hours straight, without stopping. I have a problem lmao.
> 
> Also... Late-August’s new animation is just- wkdkeomdkemmf.  
> I was in actual tears. Holy shit.


	3. Crumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The election and the subsequent disaster.

One day, a few months after the war had ended, Wilbur wakes up looking both guilty and anxious. It takes a bit of prodding, but Wilbur eventually agrees to explain his predicament to Tommy.

"I just... feel kinda shit, you know?" Wilbur finally admits, "Do we- Tommy, do you think we're tyrants?"

Tommy's eyes widen in shock, "What?"

"Well, we sort of just put _ourselves_ in power. That kinda makes us tyrants, Tommy," Wilbur points out.

"We founded this nation!" Tommy reminds Wilbur, "We deserve to be in charge of it."

Do we deserve it, though?" Wilbur asks. The faint glimmer of doubt and uncertainty, in his eyes, is startling. Tommy doesn't think he's _ever_ seen Wilbur without confidence.

" 'Course we deserve it!" Tommy says loudly, hoping that Will can't read the uncertainty in his tone.

He does notice. Of _course_ he does. Wilbur had practically _raised_ Tommy, of course he can tell when the teen's upset.

Seeming to shake himself, Wilbur puts a reassuring hand on Tommy's shoulder. "I'll tell you what, Tommy. Here's what we'll do. So, we'll hold an election, right?"

"An election?" Tommy questions warily.

"Yeah, but here's the thing! We'll close the ballots before anyone else can put their name on it," Wilbur says enthusiastically.

"So... just you as President?" Tommy asks skeptically.

"Exactly! And you as Vice President and Tubbo as Secretary of State," Wilbur explains triumphantly.

"Okay," Tommy says, a slow smile spreading across his face, "I think that can work!"

* * *

It doesn’t work. Honestly, Tommy thinks that he should have seen it coming. It’s been a long time, since anything has truly worked out for him. Somehow, before they can close the ballot, a newer member of L’Manburg, by the name of Quackity, finds out.

“This doesn’t seem very... diplomatic,” the man says, small, yellow wings flapping agitatedly.

”It- it’s not like we said that nobody else could run for President,” Wilbur says, laughing nervously.

”You were going to close the ballot, before anyone could see it,” Quackity shakes his head, “You two are acting like dictators.”

The trickle of doubt that had infected Tommy’s mind, at Wilbur’s words the day before, widens into a flood. _Are_ they dictators? Tommy has never intended to be one and surely, _surely_ , Wilbur hasn’t either. The way the older man is glaring at Quackity, however, speaks differently.

”Wil?” Tommy says softly, “We’re not dictators, are we?”

”Of course we’re not,” Wilbur says, waving a dismissive hand in Tommy’s direction. It doesn’t do a lot to assuage Tommy’s fears, but Wilbur wouldn’t lie to him... would he?

”Well, if you’re _really_ not, than you won’t mind me putting my name on the ballot,” Quackity says, holding out his hand for the papers.

Wilbur’s jaw is clenched, as he hands the papers and a pen to Quackity. “And who’s going to be your running mate?”

”I have someone in mind,” the duck hybrid waves the pen in the air excitedly, “I’ll talk to him soon and let you know, if he says yes.”

”Fine,” Wilbur says stiffly, “What’s your campaign called, if you know so much about becoming a president.”

”So We Are Gamers,” Quackity responds easily, “Or S.W.A.G. for short! What are _you_ two then?”

”P.O.G.!” Tommy offers, “It can stand for, uh... Wilbur, what can it stand for?”

”If Alex Quackity insists on mentioning video games, in his campaign, than we might as well do the same,” it’s clear that it’s meant as an insult, but Quackity just grins. “Politicians Of Gaming,” Wilbur finally says.”

”Oh, I like that!” Tommy can’t stop himself from clapping, in excitement. “I’m going to go tell Tubbo,” he announces and races off.

He doesn’t see the glares exchanged by the two men running for President of L’Manburg. Nor does he see the threatening glint in Wilbur’s eye that doesn’t belong on his, usually kind, face. Quackity sees it, however, and it worries him more than he would ever admit.

* * *

Tubbo is eager to help Wilbur and Tommy’s campaign, as much as he can and the two accept the assistance gratefully. The teen spreads flyers around the DreamSMP, advertising POG and encouraging people to vote for them.

A debate is planned, for only a few days after both parties had announced their intentions to run for president. Quackity reveals that his running mate is George, the day of the debate. Tommy honestly isn’t sure how to feel. George is so close to Dream, the very person that L’Manburg had been created to get away from. 

Throughout the day, Tommy’s nerves get worse and worse. His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty when, in a fit of desperation, he goes to Karl Jacobs. Karl and Tubbo had volunteered to be the judges of the debate that night and, though Tommy has faith in _Tubbo_ , he doesn’t trust Karl not to screw Wilbur over. 

”Here, take this,” he says, shoving fifty dollars into Karl’s hands, “Just... remember this, when you’re judging the debate tonight, alright?”

Karl’s eyebrows shoot up, “Are you _bribing_ me, Tommy?”

Tommy stares at the ground, as he feels his face flush hotly, “I- I wouldn’t put it like _that_ , but, uh... kinda?”

”Okay,” Karl laughs, shoving the money into his pocket, “Go on without me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Tommy feels hopeful that, maybe, that would help them win the debate. It’s not like Wilbur, or Tubbo ever have to know. He feels cold shame grip his heart, when he thinks of the disappointed looks he would get from his brothers, were they ever to find out. They _can’t_ know.

* * *

The debate goes very badly at first. Quackity is much better at debating, than Tommy had expected and, even with Tommy’s bribe, Karl announces Quackity to be the winner of the Presidential Debate. Tommy reassures himself that the only reason Quackity had won, is because of Karl’s stupidly obvious crush on him.

And then, Karl clears his throat. “I would just like to let everyone here tonight know that Tommy Innit came to me a few hours ago and gave me _fifty_ dollars, in exchange for me letting he and Wilbur win,” he announces, a grim smile on his face.

Tommy takes a few involuntary steps back, “I-“ he stammers out, laughing to cover his nerves, “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Karl.”

Karl pulls the crumpled fifty dollars out of his pocket, with a raised eyebrow. “Than what’s this, Mr. Innit?”

Quackity’s elated laughter makes Tommy’s ears ring and all he can see is the dismayed look on Tubbo’s face. “I, uh-“ Tommy stutters. Quackity’s laughing, Karl still looks mildly disappointed and Tommy’s just ruined _everything_ , hasn’t he? 

“Tommy,” Wilbur says. Tommy’s eyes snap up to meet his brother’s. “Tommy, let’s talk for a minute privately, alright?”

Tommy agrees and they walk into a back room together. “Come on, man,” Wilbur says roughly, “Get your head in the game. That was a dumb move, but it happened and it’s over with. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Now, it’s _your_ debate next and you _have_ to win it, okay?”

Tommy nods shakily, “Look, Wil, I’m _really_ sorry.”

”It’s fine,” Wilbur snaps, “Just remember what I taught you about making speeches, yeah?”

”Wilbur, you _know_ I never payed attention during those lessons,” Tommy says, whispering rapidly, as Karl calls them back in.

”Than talk out of your ass, for all I care,” Wilbur says, “Just make it convincing and make people want to vote for us. Now go.” He pushes Tommy back into the main room, without so much as a warning.

Tommy takes a deep breath and stares down George, who, quite frankly, looks _bored_. Tommy, somehow, manages to scrape a win in the Vice Presidential Debate and, after it’s announced, he slumps into a chair in relief.

The door opens noisily and he looks up to see Fundy and Niki standing there. “Fundy!” Wilbur greets, giving his son a quick hug, “You’re late!” 

Fundy is staring straight at George, eyes wide and far away. Tommy knows what his nephew is seeing. He’s seeing the same thing Tommy sees, whenever he looks at Dream’s mask, or hears Eret’s laughter. He’s seeing blackstone walls and hearing triumphant yells that mingle, with agonized screams. Though, in place of a blankly smiling mask, Fundy’s monster under the bed is the large, white-framed goggles that cover George’s eyes.

George moves the goggles up to rest on the top of his head and gives Fundy an awkward, half-contrite smile. Fundy seems to accept the gesture of peace, for what it is and looks away, shaking himself slightly. “So, who’re you voting for?” Wilbur asks, clearly trying to ignore whatever had just happened, “These idiots, or your old man?”

”Neither,” Fundy says flatly, “Niki and I are starting our own campaign.”

Wilbur draws back slightly, looking hurt and Tommy wonders if he’s feeling the same sting of betrayal that Tommy is. “You’re... Fundy?”

”Niki’s running for Vice President,” Fundy says, “and I’m running for President.”

”Against- against me and Tommy?” Wilbur stammers, looking taken aback.

”Sorry, Dad,” Fundy shrugs half-heartedly, “I just don’t really know if you’re the president I thought you could be.”

Wilbur’s expression is that of one who has been struck. Tommy feels much the same, as he turns to Niki. “And... Niki?” He asks tentatively.

”Oh, Tommy, it has nothing to do with you! You would be a wonderful Vice President, I’m sure, but the Coconut campaign isn’t about you at all,” she says, in what is clearly meant to be a comforting tone.

Tommy isn’t sure if he’s reassured or not. _It has nothing to do with you_. They hadn’t thought of him at _all_ , when they had created their campaign. Hadn’t thought of how it might hurt him. Well, that’s good, he thinks brusquely, because it hadn’t hurt him at all. Pushing aside his own feelings, he gives Niki a smile, standing up to shake her hand. “Good luck then,” he tells her and doesn’t complain, when she pulls him into a hug.

”I’m- I’m proud of you, Funds,” Wilbur says, voice faltering. For once, his silver tongue has failed him. It’s glaringly obvious to everyone in the building that he would rather have had _anyone_ else run for president. It’s even more apparent that it doesn’t escape Fundy’s notice either.

* * *

Tubbo builds a podium. He’s always loved building and Tommy’s impressed, with the speed and skill that he gets the structure built. Tommy, who is certainly _not_ a natural builder had been banished from the build site, with the excuse that he needed to focus on his speeches. He knows that Tubbo had just been trying to spare his feelings, but appreciates it anyway.  
  
Things are going fairly well and Tommy is almost certain of their victory, until the half-debate, half-rally the day before the election. George doesn’t show up at all and Tommy almost feels bad, as Quackity dithers uncertainly, unsure of what to do, without his Vice President by his side.

The POG and Coconut parties make their speeches first, giving the Vice President of SWAG time to arrive. Soon enough, they’re done and still: no George. Quackity steps off to the sidelines, away from the microphone and calls George, on his comm. It beeps, signaling that the older man hadn’t picked up. “Dammit,” the duck hybrid curses quietly.

”Well then!” Wilbur says, leaning close to the mic, so the audience can hear him, “I suppose that concludes our final deba-“

”Wait!” A voice shouts. A man, with large ram horns, stumbles up the steps to the podium. “I want to put my name on the ballot!”

”Um, who are you, exactly?” Wilbur asks awkwardly.

”My name is JSchlatt,” the man slurs, clearly drunk. Shoving Wilbur out of the way, he grips the mic with both hands. Wilbur’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “I’m running for president,” he informs the crowd, laughing drunkenly.

”No. No, he’s not,” Wilbur says, confiscating the mic from Schlatt.

Tugging it out of Wilbur’s grip again, Schlatt drawls, “Wow, so much for democracy! Am I right, everyone?”

The crowd, to Tommy’s shock, actually starts muttering in agreement. “Come on,” Ponk calls up to the podium, “Just let the man try.”

”What he said,” Punz agrees, with a nod. 

A few other members of the audience start to shout their agreement. “Fine!” Wilbur says, looking overwhelmed, “He can run for president!”

”Yeah!” Schlatt cheers, “Look around you! It’s going to be a _lot_ different tomorrow, I can promise you that,” his voice has dipped into an almost menacing note. “Anyway, vote for Schlatt, everyone!” He says, voice slurring again. The rally concludes in utter chaos, but, eventually, the crowd disperses peacefully and the politicians are left alone.

”Quackity, can we speak to you for a moment, in private?” Wilbur asks and Quackity nods in agreement. They find a secluded area, in one of the governmental buildings and Wilbur rubs his hands together, the way he always does, when he gets a particularly good idea.

“So, since George is gone now, what do you say we make a coalition government, in order to make sure that Schlatt and Coconut don’t win?” He suggests, “You’ll still get some power and we won’t have to worry about those people.”

”Hell, no, man,” Quackity shakes his head, “That’s such a- that’s just a corrupted idea, Wilbur. Actually, y’know what? I’m going to make a coalition government with _Schlatt_ instead.”

”What?” Wilbur looks horrified and Tommy feels much the same.

“ _You_ suggested it!” The man points out, “What? Is it suddenly illegal, when your opposition does it?”

”No,” Wilbur sighs deeply, “No, it isn’t illegal.”

”Then I’ll see you two tomorrow!” Quackity gives them both an, almost mocking, smile. “Good luck,” he adds, in a sing-song voice. Tommy is left, with an undeniable feeling of cold dread.

* * *

Tubbo has felt more nervous, over the past few weeks, than he’s let on. So, instead of spending countless sleepless nights staring at his bedroom ceiling, he has been building a massive tunnel. He’s had a bad feeling that something bad is going to happen and he always feels better, when he’s prepared.

That last night, after Schlatt’s sudden appearance, Tubbo feels almost sick to his stomach, with worry. So, he spends the entire night finishing off the escape tunnel. By the time he’s finished, it’s almost morning already and he heads off to wake Tommy.

The two stare at each other and Tubbo knows that the younger teen is just as nervous, as he is. “We should listen to a disc,” Tommy says, “For good luck.”

”Cat, for sure,” Tubbo nods, “Mellohi’s too foreboding for my nerves right now.”

They sit together on the bench and watch, as the sun rises above the horizon. Tommy gives Tubbo’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze and Tubbo wishes it could make him feel better. “Come on,” he says, looking away and standing up, “There’s something I need to show you and Wil.”

They meet Wilbur, who is bouncing nervously, on the balls of his feet. “I- I think I’m getting stage fright,” he admits, laughing anxiously. 

”That’s nonsense, Wil,” Tommy shakes his head, “You don’t _get_ stage fright. Anyway, Tubbo said he has something to show us.”

”Here it is,” Tubbo says, presenting the hidden entrance of the tunnel, “Just in case something goes wrong, you can go through this tunnel. It leads out of L’Manburg.”

”This is _brilliant_ ,” Wilbur tells him, eyes shining and Tubbo feels a flicker of pride at the warm praise.

”Let’s hope we don’t need it,” he responds grimly and the shining eyes lose their luster.

* * *

All four parties are thrumming with a nervous energy, as Wilbur pulls out the paper that holds the election results. “In fourth place,” Wilbur announces to the crowd, “with nine percent of the vote, is the Coconut party!” Fundy and Niki cheer for themselves, as the audience claps politely.

Wilbur clears his voice, in a request for silence, ”In third place, with sixteen percent of the vote, is Schlatt.” Schlatt laughs knowingly, as the audience claps and Tommy, inexplicably, feels a shiver run down his spine. 

”In second place, with thirty percent of the vote, is the S.W.A.G. party,” Wilbur announces and Tommy feels his heart soar. He sees Tubbo’s face light up, in the crowd and Tommy grins.

”So, we won?” He says, bouncing excitedly, in place.

”In first place,” Wilbur says, ignoring him, “With forty-five percent of the vote, is the P.O.G. party.”

Tommy cheers along, with the crowd and, unable to help himself, he dives at Wilbur, pulling him into a hug. Wilbur pushes him away, with an impatient, “Wait.” Tommy feels a little hurt; Wil has never ignored him like that before.

”However,” Wilbur says somberly, into the mic, “As agreed upon by all parties, S.W.A.G. and Schlatt have agreed to form a coalition government and pool their votes.” Tommy’s heart sinks. He had forgotten that little detail. “So, with their pooled votes, the coalition government of S.W.A.G. and Schlatt have won the election, with forty-six percent of the vote.”

Quackity’s triumphant laughter rings in Tommy’s ears, as Wilbur grabs him by the arm and pulls him down from the podium and into the crowd. Tommy is barely aware of what is happening, as Schlatt’s cold laugh resounds over the audience. “Wil, this can’t be right,” he whispers desperately.

”I’m sorry, Tommy, but Schlatt is now our president,” Wilbur, no longer “President Wilbur”, says grimly. Tommy can hear nothing, but the blood rushing in his own ears.

* * *

“Well,” Schlatt tells the audience, his voice strong and cold and nothing at all like the drunken slur he had spoken in, the night before, “That was pretty easy.” Tubbo’s insides feel like ice. Schlatt sounds _dangerous_. “You know what I said, the day I got here?”

He allows a suspenseful silence to settle over the crowd, “I looked every citizen of L’Manburg in the eyes and I said, ‘you listen to me... this place is going to look a lot different tomorrow.’ My first decree as the president of L’Manburg- the **emperor** ,” he corrects, with a laugh, “of this great country! Is to **revoke** the citizenship... of Wilbur Soot and Tommy Innit!”

Tubbo’s blood freezes, as he hears Niki screaming up at the podium, in righteous rage and grief. “Surely not...” Tubbo whispers to himself, turning around to watch the, now exiled, Wilbur and Tommy slowly backing away from the crowd.

”Get them out of here!” Schlatt yells, laughing, “Those relics of the past are no longer welcome in my country.” 

”Tommy, I think we need to leave!” Wilbur shouts, as Punz draws a crossbow. “Tommy. Tommy _run_ ,” he screams, as Punz draws the crossbow and fires a bolt that leaves Wilbur sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around him, until he disappears, in a cloud of ash and smoke.

Schlatt’s laughter and Quackity’s cheers are the back track, for the whole, tragic event. Tubbo can only hope that Tommy and Wilbur both managed to get out of L’Manburg. “Tubbo!” Schlatt suddenly calls, “Where are you?”

”I- right here,” Tubbo says, stunned.

”Get up here, Tubbo. You’re my Secretary of State, aren’t you?” Schlatt beckons him up.

”I- am I?” Tubbo stammers, “I didn’t think I’d get to _keep_ that job.”

”Why the hell not,” Schlatt shrugs, “Come up here, Tubbo.”

”I, uh-“

”Get up here,” Schlatt says, voice lowering threateningly, “Now.”

”On my way! On my way, Mr. President!” Tubbo says hastily, scrambling up to the podium.

”Ah, here’s Tubbo,” Schlatt puts a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder and the teen shudders, “My very own Tubbo. My right hand man. You’re going to help me announce a special project, Tubbo.”

”And- and what would that be, Mr.- Mr. President?” Tubbo says, stumbling over his words.

”Effective immediately, every citizen of L’Manburg is _required_ to tear down these ugly walls,” Schlatt announces to the country, “Isn’t that right, Tubbo?”  
  
“Yes, Mr. President,” Tubbo says quietly and Schlatt laughs again, “Let’s get down there, Tubbo. You too, Quackity.”

”Anything for my husband,” Quackity says, in an over-dramatic tone, but Tubbo stops dead.

”Wait, your _husband_?” He asks, shocked.

”We’ve had this planned, ever since George started getting flaky, Toobo,” Quackity tells him, “We got married, mostly as a... political move, but I like to think that we love each other too.”

”Yeah, sure we do,” Schlatt snorts and Quackity’s smile flickers. Tubbo can’t help, but to feel a little bad for the duck hybrid. “Now get down here, Quackity,” Schlatt snaps, “I have to at least _look_ like I take your advice, don’t I?”

”Well, you _do_ take my advice, babe... don’t you?” Tubbo doesn’t stay for the rest of the conversation. It’s painfully awkward and obviously a personal matter and he doesn’t think either man would appreciate him eavesdropping.

He finds Fundy, who, to his shock, his grinning ear to ear. “Isn’t this great,” he grins, swinging a pickaxe into the walls that Tubbo had so painstakingly built.

”I- _what_? Fundy, this is awful,” Tubbo whispers.

”This place _needed_ a change,” the fox shrugs, “C’mon, take a pickaxe and get swinging.”

* * *

Tommy and Wilbur watch the destruction from a nearby hill, tears running down both of their cheeks. “My L’Manburg,” Wilbur whispers, voice cracking, as they watch the walls get torn down. Schlatt announces, in a voice that carries all the way to their hill, that the country is now called merely ‘Manburg.’

”He can’t _do_ that,” Tommy says desperately, voice cracking.

”I think he can,” Wilbur says, before letting out a pained noise, as the walls crumble. A distant figure that looks too much like Fundy climbs the flag pole and, a moment later, the flag is on fire.

Tommy gasps, as Wilbur sinks to his knees, in both physical and mental pain, “My L’Manburg!” He says again, voice wobbling, as he raises it, in an agonized shout, “My Unfinished Symphony!

They stay there, for some time, unable to force themselves to move, but, finally, Wilbur gets to his feet. “Come on, Tommy. Sing the anthem with me, one last time.”

With faltering voices and tearful voice cracks, they sing together, ending on one last, shaky, “ _My L’Manburg._ ” Then they turn their backs on the country that had abandoned them and disappear into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed! It’s been a minute since I updated this fic, but in my defense, I’ve been busy being lazy :)
> 
> Any kudos/comments/bookmarks are always super appreciated!
> 
> Fr, I love this fic so much. I’m proud of my word baby and I hope that you guys are too :)


	4. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Wilbur try to make a new home, in Pogtopia. Manburg no longer feels like a home to Tubbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: alcoholism (it’s Schlatt), abuse 
> 
> (if I missed any, feel free to let me know)
> 
> There’s a lot of original stuff in this chapter, but I would also like to say that a lot of the dialogue near the end of this chapter is taken directly from the streams (i used wilbur’s youtube video ‘Am I The Villain’ as a reference) because it’s legitimately some of my favorite lines from the entire goddamn DreamSMP lol
> 
> This is long as shit, but enjoy!

Eret, of all people, cuts them off, before they can get far. Tommy backs up a few steps on instinct, reaching for a bow that he doesn’t have with him anymore. Eret holds his hands out in front of him, in a gesture of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you,” they say quickly and Tommy scoffs. Wilbur doesn’t say a word.

”It’s fucked up, what Schlatt is doing,” they insist, “You two can come live with me, in my castle.”

”Fuck you,” Tommy spits, not quite feeling guilty for the monarch’s flinch at his words.   
  
“Yeah,” Wilbur finally speaks up, “Fuck off, Eret.” The former president winces and Tommy knows that the wound that Punz had caused is still bothering him.

”Fine,” Eret says tightly, “I hope you’ll at least let me send you food, so you don’t _starve_ to death.” 

“We don’t need your help, you slimy bastard,” Tommy grits out, “Leave us alone.”

”Alright then,” she grits out. The sun is glinting off of her golden crown, as if to mock the two destitute boys. “Good luck fending for yourselves out here. Your pride is going to be the death of you, Tommy Innit,” they predict ominously. With that, they turn on their heel and march off, back in the direction of L’Manburg. 

“Ender,” Tommy growls, “ _Fuck_ that guy.” Wilbur nods fervently, in agreement, but doesn’t speak. ”Wil? Are you okay?” Tommy adds, feeling a bit worried.

”I- I think I lost another life from Punz’s crossbow, Tommy,” Wilbur wheezes, “It- uh, it hurts quite a bit.”

Tommy frowns, “We should find a place to stay then.” Wilbur nods and makes a gesture, as if telling the teen to lead the way. Tommy isn’t sure he knows how to do that.

* * *

Wilbur stays afloat long enough to help Tommy place lanterns around the ravine the two find and slay any monsters that had happened to stumble into the place. Nearly the moment that they set up a make-shift bed for Wilbur to rest on, the man collapses into it and falls into a troubled sleep.

Tommy is left to clear out different parts of the ravine and designate different caves as ‘rooms.’ He drags an Ender Chest into the center of the room and unlocks it, with his own key, and searches for anything that might be useful. He finds a few healing potions and a couple of loaves of bread inside and empties it out completely.

Hoping for more materials, he digs in Wilbur’s bag, for a moment, before pulling out the older man’s Ender Chest key and once again unlocking the chest. A few regeneration potions and some steak are the only useful things inside. Tommy chooses to leave the meat in the chest, where it would stay perpetually edible, but takes the potions out and stores them away, in a more accessible place, along with his own healing potions.

Wilbur doesn’t awake for almost twenty-four hours and, when he finally does, he just stares up at Tommy, with wide, unseeing eyes. “Wil?” Tommy asks tentatively. 

”Phil?” Wilbur rasps, voice hoarse, with lack of water, “Philza? Is that you?”

”What?” Tommy recoils, “It’s me, Wilby. It’s Tommy Innit.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur says, reaching a beseeching hand out to Tommy and, for a moment, the teen is relieved. And then, Wilbur continues to speak, “Dad, I’m so sorry I yelled at you. Please don’t be mad... please...” he lapses into unintelligible muttering and Tommy is _terrified_.

He reaches a hand out nervously, to feel Wilbur’s forehead and finds it, as he had suspected, to be dangerously hot. “Wil, you have a fever,” Tommy informs him, even though he knows that Wilbur can’t hear him.

He scrambles to get a regen potion and, by the time he returns, Wilbur is almost asleep again. Tommy’s hand shakes, as he pours the purple liquid down his older brother’s throat. Wilbur splutters and coughs, but, eventually, swallows it and fades back into sleep.

Tommy takes to hovering around Wilbur’s ‘bedroom’, looking more and more like an anxious phantom. He gets more and more pale, by the day, as Wilbur fails to recover. The dark circles under his eyes are telling of the way he hadn’t slept properly since a few nights before the election. Sometimes, he can't stop the tears from rolling down his face, making his shoulders shake. Nobody is there to hear him. He misses Tubbo.

Sometimes, Wilbur wakes up, entirely delirious, calling for Technoblade, or Phil, or, on occasion, Fundy. Once, when Tommy quietly tells him that Phil can’t come see him, Wilbur latches onto Tommy’s shirt, with both hands, and, to the teen’s horror, starts _sobbing_. “Why doesn’t he _love_ me?” The man demands, in a broken voice, and Tommy can do nothing, but sit there, in silence.

He’s never seen Wilbur cry. Not _once_. Not when Phil and Techno had left for three months that one time and they had almost run out of money for food, before Phil remembered to send them more. Not when Eret had betrayed them. Not when they had been banished from L’Manburg ( _Manburg_ , now, Tommy reminds himself.) But, now, Wilbur is crying into Tommy’s shirt, begging for Philza.

Tommy _knows_ that he’s delirious with fever and sickness, but it breaks his heart just the same. He pats Wilbur’s head awkwardly, fighting his own tears, until the man finally falls asleep again. Tommy is well and truly scared now. So, he does something that he _knows_ Wilbur, in his right mind, would never approve of.

He calls Technoblade. Technoblade, who he hasn’t seen, or even made contact with, in almost three years. Even before they had left for the DreamSMP, Techno hadn’t even _tried_ to talk to him, for a long while. He dials his contact on his comm and holds it up to his ear, hoping, _praying_ , that his older brother will pick up.

By some miracle, he _does_ pick up, with a confused, “Tommy?”

”Techno!” Tommy can’t stop his voice from wobbling, “Techno, I wouldn’t call you, if I didn’t _really_ need your help, but I do. So, so badly.”

”Well, I _know_ it’s bad, if Tommy Innit is admittin' he needs help,” Techno sighs, “What’s wrong?” His voice has deepened and grown rougher, with time and age, but the familiar, once comforting, sound, is enough to send Tommy over the edge.

He’s crying, as he desperately explains their predicament to Techno, who truly does sound concerned, whenever he makes a comment. “And now Wilby’s sick and he- he doesn’t know who I am and it’s been- it’s been a w-week and he’s not getting any better. I need you, Tech. _Wilbur_ needs you.”

”I’m on my way,” Techno says resolutely, “I’ll be there before you know it, just message me the coords.”

”You’ll be here soon?” Tommy checks, as his shaking fingers input the coords into the communicator. 

”Within the day,” Techno confirms.

”Promise?” Tommy asks, in a quiet, wobbling voice.

”I promise,” Techno huffs and Tommy can picture the hybrid’s half-fond, half-irritated eyeroll. Techno hangs up, after that and Tommy slumps onto the ground, at the foot of Wilbur’s bed. 

The teen yawns. He hasn’t slept in _so_ long. It wouldn’t be too bad, if he just took a quick, fifteen minute nap. He closes his eyes and is dead to the world, within moments. The next time Tommy is aware of anything, two strong, familiar arms have lifted him up. “ ‘ello?” He mutters, voice slurred with sleep.

”You’re goin' to hurt your back, sleeping like that,” a rough, familiar voice informs him.

”Techie?” Tommy whispers hopefully, already falling back to sleep.

”Hey, Tommy,” the voice responds, as it deposits him, onto something soft.

”Missed you,” the teen says simply and then promptly falls back to sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, while Tommy is frantically trying to keep Wilbur alive, Tubbo is trying to learn to navigate his new environment. Schlatt has taken the White House and he and his cabinet live there together. Tubbo doesn’t know where he stands with Schlatt, so he practically tiptoes around him.

He makes stupid mistakes, sometimes. Ignores Schlatt, when he should be paying attention; speaks too loudly, when Schlatt had pointedly informed the cabinet that he has a headache; argues, when he really shouldn’t. Each time this happens, Schlatt glares at him, so menacingly that Tubbo’s _sure_ something bad is about to happen.

That bad something happens, for the first time, at the end of the first week of Schlatt’s presidency. In a meeting, Schlatt informs them all, of his decision to raise taxes on Niki and Niki only. “Surely not!” Tubbo exclaims, before he can stop himself, because Niki is _Niki_ and she’s too kind and strong to be so blatantly mistreated.

”What was that, Tubbo?” Schlatt demands.

”I-“ Tubbo shrinks back in his seat, “Just- that doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

Schlatt laughs loudly and turns to Quackity, “You hear this kid? _That doesn’t seem very fair_ ,” he says, in a high-pitched, mocking tone, “Fuckin’ ridiculous.” Quackity looks horribly uncomfortable, shooting an apologetic glance at Tubbo. “Tubbo, I want you to stay after the meeting,” Schlatt adds and goes back to his papers.

Schlatt waits until the door closes on the retreating backs of the rest of the cabinet, filing out of the meeting room, before rounding on Tubbo. “What the _fuck_ was that?” He snaps, grabbing Tubbo’s shoulder, in a steel grip.

”I’m sorry, sir,” Tubbo says quickly, a spike of adrenaline making his heart race. 

“You _should_ be,” Schlatt snorts. He's close enough that Tubbo can smell the whiskey on his breath. It makes the teen wrinkle his nose in disgust. “Don’t disrespect me like that ever again.”

”Yes, Mr. President. It- it won’t happen again, Mr. President,” the teen stammers and flinches hard, when Schlatt shoves him, hard, into the marble wall.

”You’d best hope not,” the ram hybrid growls, “Now get out of my sight.”

Tubbo retreats from the office, shoulder aching, from where Schlatt had grabbed him, and elbows throbbing, from where they had made painful contact, with the wall. He’s staring at the ground, willing himself not to cry. He had already pissed Schlatt off enough and, besides, what right does he, Tubbo, have to cry? Not when Wilbur and Tommy ( _Tommy_ ) have been exiled. Not when Tubbo gets a cushy room in the White House and a job, as a member of state.

But, what does that even _mean_ , really. He’d rather be in exile, with his pseudo-brothers, than here, being hurt for just speaking his opinion. He bumps into someone and snaps his head up, to see Quackity.

”Toobo?” Quackity look of confusion falls into one of concern, “Oh, shit. Are you crying? Schlatt wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”

”I’m- I’m not crying,” Tubbo argues, blinking hard to rid his eyes of the tears that had been gathering in the corners.

”Bullshit, but okay,” Quackity says, raising an eyebrow, “C’mon, you can tell me. What’d he say to you?” He slings an arm around Tubbo’s shoulder, in a friendly, confiding manner. It reminds Tubbo so forcefully of Wilbur that it’s instinctual for him to come clean.

”It’s... not exactly what he _said_ that was the problem, if you know what I mean?” Tubbo looks over at the vice president. He’s not much taller than Tubbo is and it honestly helps to not have his confidant tower over him, like he’s used to, with all three of his brothers. Maybe that’s why he confides in Niki so often, as well. It’s less intimidating, in a way.

Quackity’s brow furrows. His voice is cautious, when he next speaks, “I... might know what you mean. Mind telling me what he did?”

”Just shoved me around a bit, didn’t he?” Tubbo shrugs, trying to make his words light and airy, as if it hadn’t bothered him much at all. “It’s not a very big deal, Big Q. Just surprised me, more than anything, y’know?”

Tubbo doesn’t think he’s ever seen Quackity, with such a serious, worried expression on his face. “He- he told me that he wouldn’t hurt you,” he mumbles, sounding betrayed, “I don’t care if he hurts _me_ , but- but you and Fundy are just _kids_. It’s fucked to hit either of you.”

Tubbo pulls away from the older man, “What do you mean, you don’t care if he hurts you? You mean this has been happening to you too?”

Quackity looks away, “My husband’s a bit of an... angry drunk and I’m usually the... closest person, when he gets like that.”

Tubbo stares, “You’re not much older than me and Fundy, Quackity. You’re only nineteen, aren’t you?”

”So what?” Quackity snaps, “I can deal with it. And I think he and I need to have a bit of a talk tonight. I’d... probably suggest getting to sleep early.” And with that, he marches away, leaving Tubbo to stare after him. The almost-sixteen year old snorts. Like he’d _ever_ be able to sleep after the events of the day.

Sure enough, three hours later he’s laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, when the shouting starts to become audible. He folds his pillow around his ears, in an attempt to block the noise. It doesn’t work. The shouting only gets louder and the unmistakable sound of shattering glass (followed by a yelp of pain) makes Tubbo flinch.

He hums loudly to himself, in an effort to distract himself and drown out some of the argument. He doesn’t realize that he’s crying, until he squeezes his eyes shut and feels tears leak out of it. He just wants the screaming to stop and he’s _so_ tired and it’s awful to have to listen to this.

In the end, he somehow manages to fall asleep, throat soar and cheeks wet, from the crying. He misses Tommy so much it hurts.

* * *

Tommy wakes to voices, growing gradually louder by the second. “You didn’t give a shit about us for... what? Two and a half years? And now, suddenly, you save my life and want to help us fight a- a revolution?”

”You didn’t hear the kid’s voice over the comms. It worried _me_ , Wilbur, and it scared the shit out of Chat. He sounded one second away from passin’ out and he _had_ passed out, by the time I got here. Hell, he’s been asleep for two goddamn days. And don’t flatter yourself, Wilbur. I’m joinin’ this revolution, because I want to overthrow the government. I don’t want you back on a pedestal.”

”I _founded_ that damn country, Technoblade. I think I deserve to be in charge,” the first voice raises, in anger.

” _Deserve_ , huh?” Techno snorts, “Sounds like somethin’ a tyrant would say.” A short sound of some sort of scuffle and then another snort. “Stay in bed. That wound is still infected, dumbass. Do you _want_ to die?”

”I don’t fucking care, either way,” Wilbur says flatly.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t be dramatic, Wil. Now lay back down, before I make you.”

Tommy chooses that moment to ‘wake up’, sitting up in bed and yawning exaggeratedly. “What’s goin’ on, lads?” He says loudly, examining Techno for the first time.

He looks to be a good foot taller than he had been the last time Tommy had seen him and his tusks have fully grown in now. His long, piglin-like ears are pierced, with light, golden chains and glimmering jewels. His hair, which has always been long, is braided neatly, underneath a sparkling golden crown, inlaid, with large, expensive looking gems. Around his shoulders, is a red cape, trimmed with white fur.

“Dare I ask where you got that crown? Tommy asks hesitantly.

Techno smiles, eyes flashing. “Its previous owner won’t be askin’ for it back, any time soon,” he responds simply and Tommy winces.   
  
“I didn’t know you could permanently kill people, in those arenas of yours,” he decides to say, instead of screaming.

”Oh, I moved on from arenas, to battlefields, _years_ ago, Tommy. Didn’t Phil ever tell you?” Techno asks.

Tommy stares. “No,” he says dully, “No. He never told me a goddamn thing.”

”When was the last time he contacted you?” Techno looks surprised.

”When Tubbo and I left for the DreamSMP,” Tommy says, shrugging, “You?”

Techno looks away awkwardly and hesitates, before responding, “Yesterday.”

Tommy feels like he’s been punched in the stomach and the expression on Wilbur’s face is one of a deep hurt. “Oh,” Tommy says, feeling a laugh bubbling up in his throat. It shouldn’t be there, it _shouldn’t_ , because Tommy wants to do nothing, but cry and scream. It’s a horrendously inappropriate reaction to the situation and he hates himself for it.

Luckily, his dilemma is solved, by Wilbur laughing first. But, it doesn’t sound much like Wilbur’s laugh. This laugh is a low, crazed thing filled with an awful emptiness. It makes Tommy shiver and even Techno looks startled.

Tommy joins in the laughter, as Wilbur shouts, “ _Oh_ , this is brilliant! Not even Philza fuckin’ Minecraft gives a shit about us! I thought he just cut off contact with _all_ of us. Should’ve known better!”

Techno stares at them both, “What the fuck happened to you two?”

” _So_ much shit, big man,” Tommy says, sobering up long before Wilbur manages it, “Besides, you’re apparently like a murderer now, or some shit, so where do you have room to talk?”

”Eh, more like _war criminal_ , but your point still stands,” Techno pauses, chuckling at something.

”What?” Tommy questions.

”Chat’s sayin’ ‘Blood for the Blood God’ again. Can’t say I mind that nickname too much,” Techno grins, tusks protruding from his mouth.

Tommy buries his face in his hands, “We’re all fucked, aren’t we?”

”Oh, _totally_!” Wilbur’s laugh is bordering on hysterical now, “You know, we’re going to take back Manburg, Tommy. Whether or not Schlatt’s a good president. Techno and I were just talking about it, before you woke up. We’re going to call this place, Pogtopia. Wouldn’t that be fun? You know, Pog? Like our campaign acronym?”

”Of _course_ he’s not a good president!” Tommy says defensively.

”Well, you don’t _know_ that, Tommy Innit, do you?” Wilbur points out, still giggling to himself.

Tommy frowns, “He _has_ to be bad. Otherwise, why would he exile us?”

”Why would Tubbo stay?” Wilbur shoots back.

”Well, _I_ could probably be a better president,” Tommy says, folding his arms over his chest.

Wilbur tips his head back and _laughs_ , long and loud, “Tommy, you’re _never_ going to president.”

Tommy shoots to his feet, hurt flaring up in his chest, “I’m going to take a walk.”

“You do that, Tommy. Techno and I have some big plans to work out,” Wilbur smiles and it doesn’t feel anything like Wilbur’s usual smile. His smile is always so warm and full of life. This smile is colder than the damp caves of Pogtopia and the man’s eyes are rapidly flickering through emotions (none of them pleasant). 

Tommy hopes that this manic energy is temporary. The uncharacteristic behavior is, honestly, starting to scare him.

* * *

Tubbo is sitting on top of a hill, absentmindedly plucking blades of grass and shredding them, in his fingers. He had had to go for a walk, in order to clear his head. When he had woken up that morning, Schlatt was in a worse mood than ever and Quackity had a ‘mysteriously’ sprained wrist. There was only so long that Tubbo could take, watching Quackity flinch, with every swig of whiskey that the president took.

Tubbo can’t help, but to feel partially responsible. If he had just kept his mouth shut, than Quackity wouldn’t have felt the need to shout at Schlatt and he wouldn’t have been injured. He’s jolted out of his thoughts, by a surprised, “Tubbo?”

Whipping his head up, he gapes, “Tommy?” Jumping to his feet, he tackles Tommy in a hug. “Tommy, are you okay? Where’s Wil?”

”He’s sick,” Tommy says, not answering Tubbo’s first question, “Apparently Punz took his second life, when he shot him, and the wound got infected.”

Tubbo frowns, “How are you taking care of him? You don’t have many resources, do you?”

Tommy hesitates, looking away, “I... think it might be easier just to show you. C’mon, big man.” Tubbo follows the younger teen, more than a bit confused. “How’ve you been?” Tommy asks over his shoulder.

Tubbo shrugs, “I- I miss you and Wilbur a lot.”

”You’re bein’ all clingy, Big T,” Tommy says, grinning and Tubbo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, what’s Schlatt like?”

Tubbo’s throat closes. He wants to tell Tommy everything, but... he’s going through enough right now, without Tubbo’s stupid problems. He settles on saying, “Eh, he’s not great.”

Tommy doesn’t answer, shoulders tensing. “Here we are,” he says, after a moment, as they come to an entrance dug into the side of a hill. “It opens up into this big ravine.”

Before they can get too far into the cave system, Tommy holds up a hand for Tubbo to pause. “Just- don’t get too startled, alright? We got an... old friend... to help us out.”

”Who?” Tubbo questions, confused. 

”Is that Tubbo?” A deep voice questions and the teen jumps.

”Holy shit... is that Technoblade?” Tubbo asks, eyes wide.

”Hello,” Techno responds.

”It- it’s been a little while, man,” Tubbo laughs to expel some of his nerves.

”It has,” Techno acknowledges, with a tilt of his head.

”How’ve- how’ve you been?” The fifteen year old questions, eyeing Techno’s new adornments.

Techno shrugs, turning around, “I assume you’re here to see Wilbur. He’s this way.”

Wilbur’s laying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the cave, when the other three enter the room. “Tubbo,” Wilbur says, an odd look on his face, as he turns to greet the visitors.

”Good to see you alive, Wilbur,” Tubbo greets, with a small smile.

”Yeah,” Wil says dismissively, “Tell me. How is Schlatt as president of Manburg?”

”He’s... alright,” Tubbo responds hesitantly, “You were better though.”

”Was I?” Wilbur eyes him, “Do you really think that?”

”Yes! Of course I do!” Tubbo says hastily.

”Good,” Wilbur smiles suddenly, “Then you’ll join our revolution.”

”I- what?”

”You’ll be my spy, Tubbo. How would you like that?” Wilbur sits up, grinning.

”I... yes. Yes, I’ll be your spy,” Tubbo nods, thinking again of Schlatt and Quackity.

”Good man,” Wilbur pats him on the shoulder, where Schlatt had grabbed him the day before. Tubbo flinches, but nobody seems to notice. “Alright, then. We’ll fill you in on the plan.”

* * *

A few more weeks pass and Wilbur recovers, slowly, but surely. Techno manages to make them a potato farm, a mine, and start to fill a cave that they had designated as their arsenal, without much assistance at all. He clearly doesn’t sleep any more than he had during their childhood. In the three weeks that they’ve been living together, Tommy has seen him asleep twice. 

Tommy works to expand the escape tunnel that Tubbo had built, into a proper underground road, leading from Pogtopia to Manburg. It’s through this tunnel that Tubbo visits them and Wilbur and Tommy sneak into Manburg.

Tubbo passes them information directly from the Manburg White House and, somehow, Schlatt has found out about Techno’s presence in the DreamSMP, though he seems to be under the delusion that Techno is there to support Manburg.

 _Dream_ , of all people, agrees to work with Pogtopia. Tommy doesn’t trust him. Not even a little, but the extra resources are appreciated.

Occasionally, Wilbur and Tommy themselves go on reconnaissance missions. Once, they overhear a conversation between Schlatt and Fundy, where the fox boy dismisses his relationship with Wilbur, as nothing more than president and citizen.

Wilbur reels back, as if he had been struck and Tommy gapes. “What the fuck,” he breathes and, when he looks back at Wil, the mixture of hurt and fury on his face is almost frightening.

One morning, Tubbo informs them that Schlatt’s preparing to make an important announcement that afternoon. Tommy and Wilbur climb to the top of a high tower, near the podium, where the election had been held, and lie in wait, until Schlatt makes an appearance.

The rest of the citizens of Manburg all congregate under the podium, by order of Schlatt. “A festival, is what I’m here to announce!” Schlatt laughs, “A celebration of democracy!” Tommy snorts, rolling his eyes. “The very democracy that put me in power! That evicted the-“ he cuts himself off, with a wild laugh, ‘the _dictator_ , that was here before me.”

Wilbur huffs loudly. “Let’s get everyone down here for this festival! Everyone except for those two that will not be named,” Schlatt continues, still chuckling to himself. Tommy’s heart clenches at the cruel words. “Let’s get Eret down here! Dream, if he even shows up to this shit country anymore. Hell, let’s get my good friend Technoblade to show up!” Tommy’s eyes widen and he sees Wilbur look around nervously.

Tommy draws his bow, aiming directly for Schlatt’s chest. He can take the shot. He knows he can. This isn’t like last time. There’s no smiling mask and no ominous counting, in the background. There’s nobody standing across from him, with a bow of their own, and nobody cheering his death from the sidelines. When had his hand started shaking?

Wilbur shoves him roughly and Tommy jumps, turning around to look at the older man. Wilbur shakes his head once, eyes steely. Tommy puts away his bow, though not without making his displeasure known, through an eyeroll.

“I want to drive home the idea, that this celebration will be about Manburg. A celebration of democracy, of law, and the new era of peace that has been brought here by my administration,” Schlatt concludes his speech, downing some amber liquid, from a bottle. Fundy and Quackity cheer and Tubbo claps politely, clearly trying not to eye the two on the tower. 

* * *

“Wilbur, I could have taken my shot,” Tommy grumbles, as they make their way home.

”Killing Schlatt wouldn’t do anything,” Wilbur snorts, “Killing Schlatt wouldn’t fix a single thing! Because then _Quackity_ would be in charge and that might even be worse.” There’s silence for a long moment, before Wilbur clears his throat, almost nervously. “Tommy, I have a question for you. Because this festival doesn’t seem like a bad thing at all, right? It seems friendly.”

”Yeah...” Tommy says cautiously.

”Tommy, are we the bad guys?” Wilbur questions, turning to look at him. Tommy takes a step back, staggered by the question. “Cause we just made ourselves the leaders and then _he_ won the vote, totally legally, and now we’re trying overthrow him. It- it feels like we’re the bad guys, Tommy. This doesn’t feel correct.”

Tommy hesitates, mouth working soundlessly. They’re not the bad guys. They aren’t. They _can’t_ be. “Tommy, am I the villain, in this story?” Wilbur’s lips turn up, in the start of a smile, “Am I the villain, in your history?”

”No!” Tommy finally protests, loudly.

”Why not?” Wilbur demands.

”Because we founded L’Manburg. And we should have won that vote,” Tommy says, voice faltering. Why does Wilbur look so happy?

”But the people said we shouldn’t have,” Wilbur points out, with a smile, “Tommy, I think we’re the bad guys, but... I want to say something to you. You and me, we both agree that we’re in the right?”

”Yeah, well, I’m _always_ in the right,” Tommy tries to throw up a cocky front, in an attempt to conceal his spiking anxiety.

”Then, let’s be the bad guys,” Wilbur grins and Tommy flinches.

”Wh-“ Tommy stutters, as they arrive back at Pogtopia.

”Why not?” Wilbur laughs, “Why not? Our nation’s far behind us! Let’s blow that _motherfucker_ to smithereens. Let’s blow the whole thing up!”

”Wilbur, what- what are you thinking?” Tommy breathes, staring.

”Tommy, if we can’t have Manburg,” Wilbur says, breathing heavily, “No one!” He shouts, pounding the lid of a chest, with his hand, “No one can have Manburg!”

”No, no, Wilbur, I- I think,” Tommy’s scared. He’s never been scared of Wilbur before. Not once. “We can take it back!”

”This is a new era!” Wilbur shouts, punctuating each word, with a clap of his hands, “We burn that place to the fucking ground! I want it all gone! Tommy, let’s be villains!”

”I- I need a minute to think, Wil,” Tommy stammers, practically running further into the ravine.

”How much longer do you need?” Wilbur questions harshly, following right behind him, “You’ve had _weeks_ , Tommy? We lost the election a month ago!”

”I need a minute!” Tommy says, stumbling away from him, “You’re not thinking straight! It’s not too far gone, Wil! You’re being reckless!”

”What’s the point?” Wilbur snorts, “So much blood was shed to even get Manburg to where it was. To get it back, we’d have to spill even more blood, just to be the illegitimate rulers of the nation! The only reason Dream is even on our side, is because we’re the enemies of his enemies!”

”Wilbur, we made L’Manburg to get _away_ from Dream and- and everything. What’s the point, without L’Manburg?” Tommy argues, voice cracking.

”I know why you’re doing this, Tommy,” Wilbur says, advancing towards him, “I know. I see it in your eyes.” Tommy turns his head away, backing up from his crazed brother. “I hear it in your voice! Tommy Innit, you’re scared! You’re scared the people are going to think differently of you!”

Tommy stumbles backwards, until his back hits a cave wall. “Tommy,” Wilbur whispers, leaning in close, “When I said you were never going to be president, that wasn’t a challenge! It was true. You’re _never_ going to be president, Tommy Innit. I can hear it in your voice! You’re trying to sound like you know what you’re doing, so you can prove me wrong.”

Tommy swallows hard, closing his eyes and trying to picture being somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else, rather than here, with the person pretending to be his brother. “None of us know what we’re doing!” Wilbur laughs, “We’re all fucked! We were fucked the minute we were thrown out! Cause Schlatt knows that even if we beat him, we’ve lost.”

Tommy shakes his head rapidly. “Tommy, we have nothing to lose! Do you know what that means?” His voice is shaking, with excitement.

”What does it mean?” Tommy grinds out.

”It means we can do what we want!” Wilbur backs up slightly and Tommy opens his eyes again, “We have a man on our side, who once rigged our nation, with TNT! We can do it to Manburg! Let’s rig the festival and kill them _all_.” 

”No! No! No!” Tommy protests desperately, staring at Wilbur’s tangled hair and wild eyes.

”Everyone who says they’re on our side is lying to us! Tubbo? He’s lying to you! He would drop us the second he realizes we don’t have a chance!” Wilbur laughs loudly.

”No! Stop it!” Tommy cries out, shoving Wilbur away from himself. Tubbo can’t be on Schlatt’s side. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Because, then, Tommy would be left with nothing and no one. “You’re not being the man, who was my president! The man, who was my brother! What’s the point of doing _anything_ , if you’ve lost all hope?”

Wilbur is staring at the cave floor, giggling to himself. Tommy is _terrified_. “If- if you believe that rigging L’Manburg with TNT- rigging! Not lighting- is the right thing to do and will give us the upper hand, than- than I’m with you, Wilbur.” And he is. He _has_ to be. He can’t abandon his brother. Not at a time like this.

”I _know_ that rigging the festival won’t help us take L’Manburg back,” Wilbur says earnestly, “But, sometimes, in order to feel comfortable and safe you have to give up the things you’re afraid to lose.”

”Wilbur! No! I’m not against you, but I can’t help you with this.”

* * *

Later that night, when Tubbo comes to visit, Wilbur practically runs to interrogate him. “Wilbur, you’re being insane!” Tommy say, trailing after him.

”Quiet,” Wilbur snaps.

”You’re being a _moron_!”

”I’m thinking,” Wilbur says lowly, turning to glare at Tommy. The teen flinches back, unused to the threatening expression, on Wilbur’s face. “Tubbo, what are you doing in the festival?” He turns to Tubbo, with crazed eyes.

”I’m decorating it, I think, with Fundy’s help,” Tubbo explains, “And... oh yeah! I’m giving a speech.”

Tommy hates the grin that lights up Wilbur’s face. “You’re giving a speech on Manburg and democracy?”

”I am! I am! It’s going to be exciting,” Tubbo smiles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

”And- and that’s not something a traitor would do, is it?” Wilbur laughs again, eyes darting around wildly.

”Wh-what do you mean?” Tubbo stammers. Before Wilbur can respond, Tubbo’s communicator buzzes. “It’s Schlatt,” Tubbo says hastily, “Stay quiet.”

”Tubbo!” Schlatt’s voice filters through the speakers, “We’re looking for you! We looked around the podium and oh my _God_ , you’re not here. We’ve searched every nook and cranny, Tubbo. This _cannot_ keep happening.”

Tubbo’s hand is visibly shaking now, but his voice is cheery, when he says, “I’m on my way back, Schlatt!”

”Forgive me for caring so much, but you’re my right hand man, Tubbo!” Schlatt says, voice lowering.

”No, no! I feel honored!” Tubbo’s pale face and trembling arm speak differently. Tommy is practically holding his breath, in an effort to be silent.

”What the fuck is that tunnel about, by the way?” Schlatt demands.

”It- it’s just a little thing I made to travel quicker,” Tubbo says hastily, “I- I’ll be right to you. Um, ta- talk to you later, I suppose.” He hangs up and, with a quick wave, he sprints out of the ravine.

* * *

It’s the next night, when Tommy stumbles across Wilbur and Dream talking, in the forest near Pogtopia. “I heard you have a lot of TNT!” Wilbur is saying, “Don’t you?”

”I do,” Dream says, with a smile in his voice, “I have quite a bit.”

”I want to rig the city!” Wilbur says, grinning madly.

”Alright,” Dream shrugs.

Tommy can’t resist bursting out of the shelter of the bushes to say, “No! Dream, don’t give it to him!”

”Oh, but I have to, Tommy,” Dream returns.

”Dream doesn’t want us to win, Tommy,” Wilbur snorts, “He just wants Manburg and Pogtopia to both be weak! And I’m not scolding you on this!” He adds, whirling around to face Dream again, “You’re a smart man! Nothing gets past you! I’m here to help you weaken both countries!”

Tommy scowls. This feels so, entirely wrong. “I’d rather L’Manburg than Manburg,” Dream points out, “Schlatt’s ambitious. He wants more land. You guys didn’t.”

Wilbur laughs then, a loud, crazed thing. It sends a chill down Tommy’s spine. “Let me blow it up then, Dream!”

”No!” Tommy grabs onto Wilbur’s arm, “Wil, this isn’t right!”

Wilbur snatches Tommy’s wrist in a harsh grip and shoves him, practically to the ground, still laughing. “Tommy, you were never in charge!” He says, in a high, amused tone.

”Wilbur, this isn’t right,” Tommy says quietly, cradling his hurt wrist to his chest. He follows, as Dream hands over the dynamite and Wilbur stores it all in a chest.

”Wilbur! Look at me,” Tommy says, with a growing resolve. With shaking hands, he aims a bow at his brother, “Hand me that dynamite.”

”Tommy, I’ll have to step in,” Dream steps in front of Wilbur, with a drawn sword. Tommy glares, but puts his bow away.

”This isn’t right,” he says again, desperate to get through to Wilbur, “I’m not going to betray you, but I can’t support you in this. Blowing up L’Manburg isn’t going to solve anything. It’s just going to waste time. And we don’t have time to waste.”

Wilbur giggles again, “Oh, Tommy. None of what you’re saying really matters.” Shoving past the teen, nearly sending him into the wall, he addresses Dream again. “Dream, thank you very much. I will do you proud.”

”If you need any help, let me know,” Dream responds, with a nod.

”When Tubbo’s doing his speech, you might want to leave. Because that’s when I’m going to blow it all up,” Wilbur warns, with a smile.

”Okay. Good to know,” Dream nods once more and takes his leave.

”Tommy, I hope you’ll wind up helping me out,” Wilbur says, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and steering him into the ravine. “For now, go ahead and get some rest, all right?”

Tommy can only nod numbly, wrist still throbbing. Wilbur has never hurt him before, in earnest. Never. That, more than anything, is enough to scare Tommy into silence. He and Wilbur go to their separate rooms and Tommy wonders if Wilbur will sleep soundly tonight.

 _Tommy_ doesn’t sleep a wink that night. He just curls in a ball, on his makeshift bed and tucks his injured hand close to his chest. Wilbur has well and truly lost it and Tommy knows, with a frightening certainty, that there is nothing he can do to dissuade the man. In a week’s time L’Manburg, and all of her citizens, might be nothing more than a memory. 

Tommy promises himself that he’ll do everything, in his power, to stop it from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say that Villbur’s laugh and Schlatt’s laugh are honest to gods, my favorite villain laughs of all time. I like- get flappy, if ya know what I mean, whenever I rewatch their villain bits on the DreamSMP lmao
> 
> Anyway! I hope ya’ll enjoyed! Kudos/comments/bookmarks are always appreciated! 
> 
> Pogtopia is my favorite arc!!! I loved writing this so much!!


	5. A Colorful Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes wrong at a festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse and gaslighting, the festival execution 
> 
> Any dialogue that you might recognize comes from- Wilbur Soot: ‘The Festival Disaster’
> 
> Enjoy!

Tubbo is genuinely happy to throw himself into his work decorating the Manburg Festival. He has a real excuse to avoid Schlatt and the nauseating scent of alcohol that permeates the atmosphere of the White House at all times. He wishes that he could take Quackity along with him.

Quackity, whose laugh is too quiet and unhappy. Quackity, who wears a jacket during public events to hide the cuts and bruises on his arms. Quackity, who is kind to Tubbo, when nobody else is. Quackity, who _still_ doesn’t see that he means nothing to Schlatt.

Fundy and Karl help Tubbo decorate the plaza and the teen is grateful for the assistance. He can hardly look at Fundy, these days, but the fox boy seems to take the hint and doesn’t speak to him much. Karl, on the other hand, is kind and funny and Tubbo is glad to spend time with him. 

It’s so different, yet so similar, to Pogtopia. Manburg is open-aired and brightly colored and yet there’s a heavy, oppressive cloud residing over it that all its citizens can feel. Pogtopia makes no false attempts to appear inviting. It’s a damp, musty ravine, with cave spiders that you have to pick off of your clothes and scowling citizens, who glare at you if you wake them up after they had finally fallen asleep.

And yet, Tubbo would _much_ rather be in Pogtopia. Perhaps, it has something to do with the fact that his family resides there, but he doesn’t think that that’s the only thing that draws him to that place. Even though Wilbur has taken to pacing and mumbling to himself and even though it has become increasingly common to hear the man giggling manically to himself at late hours in the night, it’s a less terrifying madness than Schlatt’s drunken shouting.

Tubbo tries to voice this to Tommy one day. Tries to tell him that, at least, Wilbur hasn’t grown physically violent. Tommy doesn’t respond to this. He turns back to the sword that he had been forging, with a dark scowl on his face and an, almost imperceptible, shake of his head. “He’s... he’s _not_ violent. Right, Tommy?” Tubbo says carefully.

”Of course not!” Tommy says; a vicious edge to the words, “Because he’d definitely publicly display it, if he was.”

A spike of worry makes Tubbo’s head hurt. “Tommy,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t trying to assume anything, but this isn’t very ‘public’, is it?” Tubbo knows that he’s being dense. He really does. But, he doesn’t want to believe it. It’s so completely selfish and wrong of him, but he simply doesn’t want to believe that Wilbur can be like Schlatt.

Tommy closes his eyes for a long moment, clearly swallowing down angry words. When he opens his eyes again, he grinds out, “I think you should leave, Tubbo.”

”Tommy-“ Tubbo starts apologetically.

”Get out,” Tommy snaps, painful emotions swirling, in his bright blue eyes.

Tubbo raises his hands, in surrender, “Right, I’m sorry. See you later, Toms.” Tommy doesn’t reply.

* * *

It’s later that day that Tommy shows up in Manburg, with a lighter in one hand and a furious expression, on his face. He climbs up the flagpole, while the entirety of the cabinet congregates below. “I’m going to burn down this flag and the rest of this fucking country,” he bellows down to them, as he lights the black and red flag.

”Good!” Schlatt laughs loudly, “That flag was shit anyway. We needed a change!”

”Fuck you!” Tommy shouts. Schlatt only laughs harder.

”What is this? Free child labor?” Quackity says and, if his laugh isn’t as hearty, as it might have been once, than nobody seems to notice.

”God, I love child labor,” Schlatt grins, turning to Tubbo, who averts his gaze. He’s getting worried about Tommy and he doesn’t want it to show. “When he’s done with his little tantrum, escort him out of my country, will you?”

”Yes, Mr. President,” Tubbo mumbles. As he guides Tommy past the borders, he whispers, “Wilbur put you up to this, didn’t he?”

”No,” Tommy snaps defensively, “I did it all myself.”

”But he encouraged it, didn’t he?” Tubbo says, raising an eyebrow.

Tommy is is silent for a moment, before he mutters, “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Tubbo purses his lips, “Just... be careful, Tommy, alright?”

”Right,” Tommy says tightly, “You too.” They part ways, then and Tubbo has never felt worse about leaving his brother.

* * *

Tommy trains with Technoblade a lot these days. It reminds him so much of their childhood and yet they’ve both changed so much. Techno doesn’t go easy on him, but Tommy never complains. He knows, from painful experience, that his enemies won’t go easy on him, either.

Tommy is a more vicious fighter than he had been as a child (he may be only fifteen, but he hasn’t been a child in years) and he uses underhanded, honorless tactics, without any guilt whatsoever. The victor of a battle can be determined by the fighter, who isn’t afraid to stick their foot out and knock over their enemy.

Techno gets carried away more than he used to. He loses control, sometimes. His burgundy eyes will flash and he’ll grin, almost manically, as he fights his brother. Tommy doesn’t whine about it, like he might have once. He gets pissed, sometimes, but, most of the time, he just hastily bandages his cuts and scrapes and gets back to work.

And work he does. Wilbur doesn’t allow for anything less than half a chest full of resources per day. If Tommy doesn’t manage to gather enough during the day, he’s treated to an evening of shouting and accusations of ‘not caring’ about Pogtopia. He doesn’t really fight back. There’s not much he can do about it and Technoblade tends to just stay out of the way, while Wilbur storms and rages. 

Wilbur throws things, when he gets worked up enough. Once, he throws a heavy book at Tommy and the spine hits him in the shoulder hard enough to leave a purple bruise. Wilbur apologizes immediately, hugging Tommy tight and whispering apologies. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Toms,” he says, stroking his yellow hair, “You just made me so mad, kid. Don’t give me reason to think that you’re going to betray me and I won’t yell, alright?”

”Okay, Wilbur,” Tommy says, throat sore, “I’m sorry too.”

”I forgive you. You didn’t mean it,” Wilbur gives him another squeeze and Tommy clings to him, desperate for the comfort that Wilbur had provided for him, since he had been a child. The older man pries himself out of Tommy’s tight grip, leaving the boy feeling cold and empty.

* * *

Wilbur lets Tubbo in on his plan to blow up L’Manburg, about a week before the festival. Tubbo doesn’t know how to feel about it, but Wilbur looks so mad and so dangerous and it reminds Tubbo too much of Schlatt. “So? What d’you think?” Wilbur asks, with a crazed grin, “Shall I set it off right after your speech?”

Tubbo wants to protest, wants to shout and argue and run away, but, instead, he quietly says, “Okay, Wil. That sounds like a good plan.” He wants to kick himself. Why? _Why_ had he said that? Tommy is going to _kill_ him, if he ever finds out.

The next day, Wilbur shows both Tommy and Tubbo the button room. It’s an a hidden recess underneath the podium. “This is where I’ll blow up this shithole of a country,” he says, with a look of both nervousness and excitement. “I’m looking forward to this festival,” he adds darkly and sweeps out of the room, trench coat flapping behind him.

* * *

The day of the festival dawns bright and cloudless. Tubbo glares up at the bright sky, as he leaves the White House. It feels, as if it’s mocking him. _Nothing will go wrong today_ , it seems to say. Tubbo wishes that it had been cold and gray and raining. Maybe Schlatt would have postponed the festival, if it had been.

As if thinking about the man had summoned him, a hand settles on Tubbo’s shoulder from behind, making the teen jump. “What a beautiful day for a festival,” Schlatt says, voice dark, despite the cheerful words.

”Yeah,” Tubbo mutters, “it’s gorgeous.”

”Good luck on your speech, kid,” Schlatt says, squeezing Tubbo’s shoulder. There’s something in his voice that gives Tubbo the creeps. It’s as if he knows something that Tubbo doesn’t. As if he knows that something is going to go wrong. As if he knows that there are mounds of dynamite underneath their feet, as they speak.

”Thank you, Mr. President,” Tubbo tries to smile, but it ends up looking more like a grimace.

”I’m just _so_ glad that you’re my right-hand man,” Schlatt says and there’s definitely a laugh in his voice now. It gives Tubbo an anxious, sick feeling, in his stomach.

They start the festival at noon and the festivities are tainted, for Tubbo, with the knowledge that Wilbur and Tommy are waiting on the rooftops. The knowledge that this whole place could be blown to high heaven in only a few hours time. The first part of the festival passes in a blur.

Tubbo’s communicator lights up and he sees that it’s Wilbur asking to speak with him. He makes his excuses and slips up to the top of the space station, where he knows that his brothers are lying in wait. “What’s going on?” He asks, eyeing Wilbur nervously.

”I’m having second thoughts,” Wilbur responds and a wave of relief nearly knocks Tubbo over, “When are you doing your speech?”

”In about twenty minutes,” Tubbo says, checking the time, on his comm.

”Tubbo, is he a good leader?” Wilbur asks suddenly, pacing in anxious circles on the crumbling roof of the building. Tubbo hesitates and Wilbur snaps, “Don’t sugarcoat it! Just... friend to friend, is he a good leader?”

”Um,” Tubbo thinks hard. Schlatt’s violent actions and drunken words don’t count as _leadership_ , do they? The shards of glass that Tubbo had helped pick out of Quackity’s arm last night don’t count as leadership. The bruises on Tubbo’s wrists that are covered by his suit sleeves don’t count as leadership. So, he settles on saying, “He’s made some positive improvements, but... he has strange ideals.”

”Is that good enough for an assassination?” Wilbur asks, threading his hands through the part of his hair that isn’t covered, with a gray beanie.

”Tubbo,” Tommy starts, looking nervous, “Tubbo, are you happier?”

”No,” Tubbo says, before he can stop himself, “Definitely not.”

”What are the chances that he just gives up, if we destroy L’Manburg?” Wilbur asks hopefully.

”He won’t give up,” Tubbo says, with a certainty, “He won’t.”

The three stand, in silent thought, for a moment, before Tommy speaks up. “Tubbo, do you think we should blow up L’Manburg?”

”Well,” Tubbo hesitates, “no, but if you think you _have_ to, then...”

”You told me that you think we should,” Wilbur says, pausing in his pacing to give Tubbo a cold look.

”Well, I- I trust your judgement more than my own,” Tubbo stammers nervously.

”You’re just a yes-man,” Wilbur says darkly, stalking towards him. Tubbo takes a step back automatically. Wilbur’s words hurt a bit more than Tubbo had expected them to. Tubbo’s a peacemaker, a diplomat, a mediator; all of the things that Wilbur had taught him to be. And now he’s calling him a yes-man.

”He’s not a yes-man!” Tommy says, almost shouting, stepping in front of Tubbo, “He’s not!”

”He does this all the time!” Wilbur scoffs, “Even when we were kids! If I suggest something, he just goes, ‘yeah, sure, alright,’ and if _you_ suggest something, he does the same thing!” Wilbur glares at Tubbo, “Think for yourself, for _once_ in your life, Tubbo. Should we blow it up?”

Tubbo swallows hard, before speaking, “I think there are definitely better options.”

”Yes! Thank you!” Tommy says, sounding relieved, “There are better ways to go about this!”

”Well, how about this? If you say ‘let the festival begin’, at the end of your speech, than I’ll blow this motherfucker up,” Wilbur says grimly, “It’s in your hands now.”

Tubbo jumps, when his communicator lights up and frowns, “It’s Schlatt. It’s almost time for my speech.”

Before he can turn to leave, Tommy gives him a quick hug. “Be safe,” he says quietly and a feeling of dread worms its way into Tubbo’s stomach and stays there, like a stone.

”Thank you,” he whispers and takes off for the plaza.

”I miss Phil,” he hears Wilbur saying forlornly behind him, “I wonder if he’d be proud of me.” Somehow, Tubbo doubts it.

* * *

It’s nerve racking, standing in front of most of the SMP and more than a little embarrassing, when he realizes that the mic stand that they’ve been using is too tall for Tubbo to reach properly. Schlatt puts a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, as he introduces the teen. “Y’know, I do love to make fun of Tubbo for all the shit he does wrong,” he starts.

Tubbo tenses. Schlatt does much more than ‘make fun’ of him and it’s almost sickening that he can refer to it so casually. “He fucks up a _lot_ ,” Schlatt continues and Quackity shoots Tubbo an apologetic look. Tubbo just stares down into the crowd. One sentence. That’s all he needs to say and these people will all be dead.

”But, at the end of the day, he’s the one who put all this together, right? He’s the reason the plaza looks so good today. And I really believe that! You’re my right-hand man, Tubbo! So, when Tubbo wanted to make a speech about how wonderful I am, how could I say no? Come on over here!”

The crowd cheers for Tubbo, but Tubbo can’t hear anything but the blood rushing, in his own ears. One sentence. That’s all it’ll take. Schlatt gives Tubbo’s shoulder another squeeze and whispers in his ear, “Good luck and so help you End, if you give out any state secrets during your speech.” Tubbo nods tightly and looks out, into the crowd.

He gives his speech, in something of a blur. He refers to Wilbur and Tommy as insects, at one point, and feels a pang of guilt, at the words. Quackity and Schlatt laugh, however, and Tubbo knows that he needs to say these things, in order to keep his cover intact. “We’ve lived under tyrants for too long!” He says, “And now we’re finally free!” What a beautiful lie that is.

”I’d like to thank everyone for coming to this wonderful event and-“ he stops, as Schlatt starts laughing. It’s nothing like the drunken laugh that he hears most nights. No, it’s much more like the way he had laughed, when he had first been elected. A jolt of fear makes Tubbo freeze.

”Schlatt?” He tries cautiously.

”Oh, nothing, nothing. You know how we like to have fun here,” Schlatt grins and Tubbo nods hesitantly. “You got anything else in the speech?”

”Yeah! Let the festival begin!” His words only register after he’s spoken them. One sentence. That’s all it had been. 

”Quackity, press that lever for me,” Schlatt says and Quackity hesitates, but complies. A concrete box springs up around Tubbo, who looks around in confusion.

”Schlatt? What’re you doing?” Tubbo asks, fear lacing his voice. “Wait, Schlatt?” He says, laughing nervously

The crowd begins to murmur, in confusion and worry, and Tubbo can hear Techno above the rest, loudly shouting at Schlatt, “What’s goin’ on here?”

”What are you doing?” Niki shouts up at them, an underlying anger and fear, in her voice.

”You know what? I’ll cut to the fucking chase,” Schlatt snaps and Tubbo flinches back, “It really sucks for me to say this, but I know what you’ve been up to.”

”Wh-what have I been up to?” Tubbo plays dumb, panic lancing through him.

Schlatt laughs loudly, “What have I been up to, he says?”

”Schlatt, I’m trapped in here,” Tubbo says, voice wavering, as the walls seem to close in on him.

”He’s conspiring!” Schlatt yells, so that the whole crowd can hear, “With those tyrants that we kicked out months ago! I don’t know if you know this, Tubbo, but we don’t respect treason around here.”

”I- I don’t know what-“ Tubbo stammers, trying to think of any excuse that might get him out of this.

”It all adds up! You even walked off in the middle of this festival, Tubbo! Don’t you dare try to tell me that you haven’t done anything wrong...” he takes a breath, before asking a question, “You know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?”

”No,” Tubbo says quietly. When had he started shaking?

“Nothing good,” Schlatt answers; tone dark. Turning, he calls out, “Technoblade, want to come up here? Let’s just send a message real quick. Now that we’ve got Tubbo in that Tubbox,” he cuts himself off to laugh.

Techno throws his trident and lands on the ledge in front of Tubbo. “What’s goin’ on here?” He asks, with a nervous laugh.

”Schlatt, I’m trapped,” Tubbo says again, voice cracking.

”Technoblade, if you’d be so kind, take care of him for me,” Schlatt grins.

”I- I- what d’you mean?” Techno questions nervously.

”I need you to take him out,” Schlatt tells him, scowling.

While Schlatt’s back is turned, Tubbo sends Wilbur a hasty message, asking for help. In return, Wilbur says that Techno won’t hurt him. Tubbo relaxes somewhat, at this. He trusts Wilbur. Wilbur wouldn’t lie about something like this.

”Kill him,” Schlatt shouts, “Kill him, on this fucking stage, right now. And make it hurt.” Turning to Tubbo he glares, “I’d rather rule alone, than with you.”

”Schlatt, it- it’s a festival,” Fundy says uncomfortably.

”Yeah, Schlatt are you- are you sure?” Quackity says, glancing anxiously at Tubbo.

”Enough _fucking_ talk,” Schlatt yells and Quackity falls silent, “Kill him right now, Technoblade.”

Techno turns and stares at Tubbo, who looks back, fear practically choking him. Sure, he and Techno have never been very close, but surely... _surely_ he wouldn’t go through with this. “Techno?” Tubbo says cautiously.

Techno is shifting uncomfortably, but he’s unstrapped his crossbow and loaded it, with a firework. “Tubbo, I’m sorry,” he says quietly and Tubbo’s heart sinks to his stomach.

”Techno, please,” he chokes out.”

”I’m sorry,” Techno says again, “I promise to make it as painless and as colorful as possible.” Tubbo doesn’t have time to register the words, before Techno shoots his crossbow and he feels nothing, but agony. The first firework lodges itself in his chest and the second travels up the side of his neck and creeps up, until Tubbo can even feel it in his face.

Sometime after he had started screaming, he feels his vocal chords break. This is torture, like he’s never felt before and he just wants to be dead. _Please_ , just let him die. It burns it burns, oh _Ender_ it burns.

Blue and white and red fireworks still flash in front of his eyes; the not-quite-apologetic face of Technoblade behind them. It all fades to blackness, soon enough, and Tubbo is so, so grateful for the peace that death brings him. 

* * *

“Tubbo!” Tommy screams, throwing an ender pearl towards the podium, before he can stop himself. Techno is shooting fireworks into the crowd, at random, but Tommy doesn’t have time to worry about him, right now. “Tubbo!” Tommy screams again, at the top of his lungs.

Shocked cries of, “Tommy?” make him remember where he is. Purpled, of all people, attacks him first and Tommy fights him off, with a few kicks and a well-aimed swipe of his sword. He pearls back off of the podium and sprints, Techno right behind him, in an attempt to find Wilbur.

They run into him at the back of the plaza and they both hang back to watch whatever terrible decision Wilbur is about to make.

”How _could_ you?” Niki is shouting, grief and unbridled rage, in her voice, “You killed him! You killed Tubbo! How could you do that after all he’s done?”

”Yeah, I did!” Schlatt says, “I fucking did!”

”Niki, sit down,” Quackity says quickly, “Niki, please sit down.”

”I don’t even want to _be_ here!” Niki rages and Tommy half wants to stand with her and face Schlatt. Perhaps he would have, if worry for Tubbo and fury at Technoblade hasn’t eclipsed every other emotion. 

“Maybe you can be next! I wouldn’t mind a second execution! You want out of this country, you can fucking leave,” Schlatt shouts.

”I stand behind you, but fucking Ender, Schlatt! What the fuck are you _doing_?” Fundy cries out.

”Where would I go?” Niki asks, sounding lost.

”You can come with us, to Pogtopia, Niki,” Wilbur says quietly and a ripple of gasps from the crowd follows his words.

”Wilbur,” Schlatt says blankly.

”Hello, Schlatt,” Wilbur says and, with a smile, adds, “You actually killed him.” How can Wilbur be so calm about this? Tommy wants to scream and rage. Tommy wants to murder Schlatt, where he stands.

Tommy can’t stand another second of this farce, so he turns on his heel and runs. 

* * *

Tubbo is sitting in a chair, near the entrance of Pogtopia, shaking like a leaf, when Tommy returns. “Tubbo!” Tommy says, voice cracking, with relief at seeing Tubbo.

Tubbo clings to Tommy, like he’s the only thing keeping him upright and, perhaps, that’s exactly the case. “Wilbur said he wasn’t going to hurt me,” Tubbo whimpers into Tommy’s shoulder, “Wilbur said he wouldn’t. He said- he said- he-“

”I know,” Tommy says quietly, “I’m so sorry, Tubbo. _Ender_ , I’m sorry.”

”I lost a life,” Tubbo whispers, after a long moment of the two clutching each other tightly.

”I’m going to fucking kill Technoblade, with my bare hands,” Tommy promises darkly.

”Tommy, no, it- it’s fine,” Tubbo says, ever the peacemaker, “He was pressured into it! There was nothing else he could do!”

”Don’t you dare make excuses for him,” Tommy snaps, pulling away from Tubbo to pace, “He’s the fucking Blade, Tubbo. There were plenty of things that he could have done.”

”I forgive him, Tommy,” Tubbo says, though he’s still shaking so hard he can barely stand. It’s then, that Tommy notices the burn scars on the side of Tubbo’s neck and face and he sees red.

”He fucking scarred you,” Tommy points, “Life scars are _permanent_. I should know. Look at the one on my forehead.”

”It’ll... it’ll be fine,” Tubbo falters, “I reckon it’ll look pretty badass, in the end.”

Wilbur storms into Pogtopia, Niki in his wake, before they can get another word out. “I couldn’t find the _fucking_ button,” he rages, “I thought Technoblade was on our side!”

“What do you mean you couldn’t find the button?” Tommy questions.

”It was gone! Someone sealed the entrance to the room!” 

”Hey guys,” Techno’s voice makes them all jump, Tubbo most of all.

”You killed, Tubbo!” Tommy yells, “How can you just come back here!”

”I thought you were on our side!” Wilbur shouts and for one, glorious moment, Tommy thinks that the Wilbur he knows is back. And then, Wilbur stops and laughs. “Y’know what? This is _magnificent_. Wanna know why, Tommy?”

”Why?” Tommy grits out.

”Because it proves my point! Nobody is on our side! Everybody just listens to whoever is the most powerful and everybody just does what they’re told,” he laughs loudly, “This is _perfect_. The festival was just a front. Niki, you’ll join us, right?”

”Of course,” Niki agrees fervently.

”Great! Let’s get everybody in Pogtopia!” Wilbur says.

”No! We don’t need everyone here!” Tommy argues.

”It doesn’t matter, Tommy! Nobody is on our side anyway,” Wilbur points out, “Everyone just wants chaos. Technoblade, do _you_ want chaos?”

”I- I mean... yeah,” Techno starts, with a shrug, “I’ve been up front about it from the start.”

”You just fucking _murdered_ Tubbo,” Tommy yells at Techno, “I can’t just forgive you for that!”

Wilbur’s next laugh is a wild, manic one and it makes the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck stand on end. “What’s so funny?” Tubbo asks quietly.

”It’s all _exactly_ how I predicted!” Wilbur grins, “It’s _exactly_ how I predicted! But, you know what? For now, Manburg is safe. I can’t find the button to blow it up.”

”You were going to blow up Manburg?” Niki says, looking shocked.

”Oh, right, you didn’t know that,” Wilbur laughs, “Yeah, I was going to blow it all up.”

Slinging an arm around Techno, the former president grins at Tommy. “Aw, look at ‘im, Techno. He’s angry at you.” Pulling away from Techno, he claps his hands together, “Go on! Say something, Tommy! Say something!”

”Why did you kill him?” Tommy asks, some of his confidence wavering, as he feels Wilbur’s eager stare on him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

”Oh, lots of things,” Techno chuckles, “Y’know, I hear voices, I’m a war criminal, I just killed like twenty people.”

”But you didn’t mean to kill them! You _meant_ to kill Tubbo!” Tommy glowers.

”I forgive Techno!” Wilbur says, with a laugh, “I forgive him, in a heartbeat!”

”He just murdered Tubbo!” Tommy says, rage boiling in his chest.

”I want to see them fight,” Wilbur says, “C’mon, Tubbo, look into that man’s face. Tell him how much you hate him.”

Tubbo’s face is pale and drawn, as he stares at Techno. “I- I think I’m still in shock. I’m not really that angry,” he says, in a small voice.”

”Oh, whatever. I’m going to make a combat pit,” Wilbur says, with a grin, and works to clear out an area of Pogtopia, as Tommy glares daggers at Techno. 

”Tommy throws the first punch,” Wilbur says, “Go on, then, Tommy.”

”Win, or lose, it stays in the pit,” Techno says. 

Wilbur begins chanting loudly, “Stays in the pit. Stays in the pit.” Tommy is starting to feel sick. ”Do it! Kill him! Punch him!”

”I’m not doing this for Wilbur,” Tommy says firmly, “I’m doing this because you killed my best friend.” He takes a swing and his first punch manages to land, but it's almost embarrassing, how easily Technoblade beats him, in the end 

Tommy is dirty and bleeding and gasping for breath, when he finally yields. Techno offers him a hand, to help him stand, and Tommy spits at him, in response.

"I still hate you," he informs the piglin hybrid, "You're a terrible person, Techno. I can't believe I ever trusted you."

"The thing is, Tommy, you're speakin' words, but the only universal language is violence. We spoke that language, in the pit." He climbs out of the pit, leaving Tommy curled in on himself, on the ground. "On to a new day, a new plot to destroy Manburg." Techno says and he and Wil both walk off, laughing.

Tubbo and Niki both jump into the pit and help Tommy to his feet. Niki gives him a regen potion that he downs, in one gulp. "Thanks," he pants, "What a bastard."

Niki nods tightly, but Tubbo doesn't make any response. "Wil's lost it," Tommy adds, "I think it's up to us, really. The two of them just want to destroy things."

"Us against the world," Tubbo says, with a half smile, "What can go wrong?"

"No matter what, we'll fight together, right?" Tommy asks and the other two both nod, in agreement. It's a pact, forged in blood and tears and desperation and, at the time, none of them can imagine breaking it.

Niki is the one, who finally voices all of their thoughts; voices the reason they made this pact in the first place. "We need L'Manburg back," she says, voice steely, "And we _will_ get it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Kudos/comments/bookmarks are always super appreciated!


	6. All, For Nothing At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pogtopia, as it prepares for war and during the revolution of November 16th.
> 
> *title from Murders by Miracle Musical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied abuse, semi-graphic violence, Schlatt’s heart attack
> 
> As usual, any lines you recognize were taken directly from the DreamSMP streams on Nov. 16
> 
> We’re not talking about Tommy’s Mar. 1 stream here because I’m sad lol
> 
> But I would like to say: c!Dream apologists? Genuinely DNI.(Dream sympathizers, ya’ll are chill, ya’ll can stay) Dream apologists just genuinely make me feel extremely uncomfortable, so I just wanted to get that out there.
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy this chapter of pain everyone!

Wilbur sends Tommy to Manburg, on a reconnaissance mission, a few days after the festival. Tommy hates leaving Tubbo (who’s still so weak, from his injuries) alone, with Wilbur and Technoblade. Niki reassures Tommy that she’ll make sure Tubbo stays safe and Tommy does his best to trust her. 

He’s wandering the (strangely deserted) streets of Manburg, when he hears shouting, from nearby. There, on a balcony of the White House, are Quackity and Schlatt screaming at each other. “You are a sick, sick man,” Quackity is yelling.

Schlatt laughs loudly and says something that Tommy can’t hear. Whatever it is, makes Quackity blanch. What happens next, happens so fast that it takes Tommy a moment to comprehend it. Schlatt pushes Quackity directly into a glass door and, in the same instant, the duck hybrid pulls out a crossbow and shoots Schlatt, in the chest.

Tommy claps a hand over his mouth, to stifle a yell of surprise. Schlatt staggers backwards, for a moment, before disappearing, in a cloud of black ash and a choking stench of smoke. Quackity clutches the crossbow closer to his chest and, even from this distance, Tommy can see that he’s swaying, on his feet. 

He makes a split second decision, hoping that Wilbur would approve of it. “Quackity!” He calls quietly.

Quackity looks around for the source of the voice, looking startled. “Who’s there?” He asks, holding the crossbow higher.

”Alex Quackity!” Tommy calls again, “It’s just me! It’s Tommy Innit. I saw what just happened.”

”What of it?” Quackity snaps, finally locating Tommy.

”I’m guessing you won’t be welcomed back here, with open arms?” Tommy observes, with a twisted smile, “You can come back to Pogtopia, with me, if you need a place to stay.”

“How do I know you aren’t just trying to get me alone, so you can kill me?” Quackity asks suspiciously.

”Do I seem like the type of person, who can be subtle?” Tommy snaps, “Now, do you want to still be there, when Schlatt gets back, or do you want to come with me?”

”Good point,” the man vaults over the balcony, fluttering his small wings, to slow his fall. 

He’s limping, Tommy notices, as they begin the trek back to Pogtopia, but doesn’t comment on it. He can’t imagine that Quackity would appreciate the observation much. Tommy stops him, before they enter the ravine. “Just so you know,” he starts, “Don’t expect Wilbur to be... all there, okay?”

”What d’you mean?” Quackity flaps his wings nervously.

”He’s gone and lost it, Alex,” Tommy grimaces, “But, he’s all we’ve got right now, so you’re going to have to suck it up, like the rest of us.”

”Right,” Quackity says hesitantly, “He’s... he’s not like Schlatt, right?”

“How would I know?” Tommy shrugs, “I don’t know the fucker, do I? He just showed up, kicked me out of my country, and orchestrated my best friends death, didn’t he?”

Quackity winces, “Look, I’m so sorry. I never would have formed a coalition government with him, or _married_ him, for that matter, if I knew what he was going to be like.”

”Yeah, I figured,” Tommy sighs, “Tubbo seems to think pretty highly of you and that’s usually good enough for me.”

Quackity smiles, “Yeah, Tubbo’s a good kid.” Tommy ducks his head to hide a smile.

Wilbur ends up not caring about Quackity’s presence; welcoming him to the country, with a wry smirk. Tubbo, however, is relieved to see the man and that makes it all worth it, for Tommy.

* * *

It’s only a few days later that Pogtopia receives a visitor. They all startle, when they hear a familiar voice, and Fundy has six swords to his neck, before he can blink. “I’m not here to fight!” He yelps, holding his hands up, in a gesture of peace. In one hand, he holds a slightly damaged journal.

”Why are you here, then?” Wilbur snaps, eyes hard.

”I’m a spy,” Fundy explains breathlessly, “I’ve been spying on Manburg since the beginning.”

”Bullshit,” Tubbo speaks up, “That’s bullshit, Fundy. You and I both know that you were behind Schlatt one hundred percent.”

”Not after he exiled Wilbur and Tommy,” Fundy shakes his head, “I played my part well. He trusted me, but after Quackity disappeared, he got suspicious. I had to leave, before he found me out.”

”How do we know you’re not lying to us?” Wilbur asks, voice biting.

”Here! I have all of the information in this journal. You can read the whole thing,” Fundy promises, cautiously holding it out to Wilbur.

Wilbur snatches the book out of Fundy’s outstretched hand and flips it open. He reads it silently, eyes widening and narrowing at intervals. He snaps if shut and gives Fundy a curt nod. “Are you here to stay, or are you going to go running back to your president?” He asks sharply.

”I- I was planning on staying here, if... if that’s okay,” Fundy says hesitantly.

”Fine,” Wilbur says abrasively, “You’re going to betray us, either way, so why not?”

”I’m not going to betray you,” Fundy starts, as the others lower their swords. Wilbur just scoffs, in return.

Tommy reaches for the book, hoping to read the contents for himself. Wilbur yanks it out of his reach, raising his hand sharply, as if he wants nothing more than to hit Tommy around the head, with it. Tommy glares, pushing down his hurt feelings. He won’t be intimidated. He _won’t_. Wilbur scoffs, shaking his head, and lowers his hand again, storming away.

He shouldn’t be hurt, Tommy reasons to himself, it’s not like it’s _personal_. It hurts anyway. 

* * *

Tensions are high, in Pogtopia. Nobody trusts Fundy much and Tommy and Techno don’t speak to each other anymore, unless forced to. Tubbo recovers from his injuries, but, as Tommy had predicted, the burn scars don’t fade.

Tubbo had turned sixteen sometime after Schlatt had been elected president. Nobody had remembered. Even Tommy had been too wrapped up in building up Pogtopia, to recall the date.

One day, when they’re all sitting by the fire, Wilbur is recounting a childhood story. “Tubbo was about eight, then. He’s fifteen now, so-“

”Sixteen,” Tubbo corrects, before he can stop himself.

”Excuse me?” Wilbur tilts his head.

”I’m sixteen,” Tubbo mumbles, staring at the floor, “My birthday was a little over a month ago now.”

”Oh,” Wilbur almost sounds like he feels bad. When Tubbo looks up, Tommy looks stricken. Tubbo wishes he had just kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Eret sends resources to Pogtopia on a semi-regular basis. They’re reluctant to accept the help, but they’re not stupid enough to think that they can survive on their own. As it is, their rations are barely enough to keep them all decently fed. They call the nights, when Eret’s resources arrive, ‘feast nights’.

Really, it’s usually only a few loaves of bread and some milk, but those are both rare commodities, in Pogtopia. Once, Eret manages to send some fresh pastries to the rebellion and they savor those treats for days. Another time, they send fluffy, warm blankets and, for the first time since being exiled, Tommy doesn’t shiver at night.

Occasionally, along with food and tools, the king sends them little redstone trinkets, clearly made by Sam. This time, a beautifully crafted, wooden music box had been the surprise gift. When the lid is opened, a tiny statue of an avian hybrid pops up and, when the box is wound, it spins in circles, wings flapping rhythmically to the tinkling music. 

It reminds Tommy of Phil. He misses Phil, even if he claims that he doesn’t care. It hurts that his father had chosen Technoblade over his other children. Apparently, Techno is still in contact. What had Tommy done wrong? What had Wilbur?

Tommy suspects that it is the mere fact that they aren’t hybrids. They can’t relate to Phil, like Techno can. Or is it vice versa? Tommy had given up on being anything special a long time ago, but it still stings a bit, sometimes.

He wonders when he had given up on the hope. Had it been when he was seven and Techno’s tusks had started coming in? Had it been when he was ten and Tubbo had woken him up, in the middle of the night, to show him the little horns growing on his head? Perhaps it had been when he had met Dream and known, without a doubt, that the man wasn’t fully human? 

Maybe it had been when Eret had shown Tommy their white, glowing eyes. Or, even, when he had first seen Fundy’s swishing tail and flicking ears. JSchlatt’s ram horns? Quackity’s wings? Every way Tommy looks, he sees hybrids. People who are _special_. Tommy isn’t special. Neither is Wilbur. 

This, he thinks, is why Wilbur had gone to such lengths to make a name for himself. Tommy doesn’t blame him. It’s hard to be an ordinary human, in a world full of people with both physical and magical advantages. Tommy makes the best of it. But still. He wonders if Phil would love him more, if he hadn’t been born so ordinary.

* * *

There are some days, in which Tommy is fond of Pogtopia. The days that they work around the ravine, in a comfortable silence. The days that Wilbur is more present and more like his old self. The days that they sit around the fire, at night, and Wilbur, or Quackity, strums a guitar and sings quietly. These are the days that Tommy believes in the cause all over again. The days that he is sure of victory.

And then, Dream pays them a visit. Tommy is tense, even before the man speaks. “I have some bad news for you all.”

”What?” Tommy asks, before anyone else can respond.

”Schlatt has, well, made me an offer,” he says and Tommy can _hear_ his smirk, “A good offer. And I’m going to accept it.”

”You bastard,” Tommy glowers, “I knew we couldn’t trust you.”

Wilbur laughs loudly. “I told you, Tommy, nobody is on our side! This is absolutely brilliant! Continue, please, Dream,” he adds, with a smile.

”He also informed me that there is a traitor, in your midst,” Dream chuckles, “So, have fun figuring out who it is.” Wilbur just smiles blandly, seemingly not at all bothered.

The others all turn suspicious eyes on each other at Dream’s words. Tommy glares at Techno. Niki raises an eyebrow at Fundy. Tubbo and Quackity eye each other warily. Wilbur just keeps smiling. “Wonderful news, Dream! Now, will you be on your way?”

”Yes, I think my business is done here,” Dream nods his head and leaves the country. He leaves them with a sense of wariness and fear that they can never again quite manage to shake off.

* * *

The date of the final battle is set by Wilbur and Schlatt, without the consent, or knowledge of anybody else. Wilbur simply announces the date to them all one morning. November sixteenth. Only two weeks away. Tubbo can barely comprehend the nearness of the date. All of this unrest and conflict and pain will come to a head in only a fortnight.

He and Tommy sit together, in a commiserating silence, that afternoon. They had tried to go mining, but hadn’t been able to focus properly. So, instead, they had just flopped down against the cave wall, shoulder to shoulder. Tommy, I’m scared,” Tubbo admits quietly, after a while.

Tommy hums, in acknowledgment. “Yeah, I know,” he sighs. Tommy’s scared too (not that he’d ever admit it.) Tubbo can tell.

”What if we ran away?” Tubbo suggests, in a small voice, after a long moment.

Tommy turns to look at him, with a shocked expression. “What?” He asks sharply.

”We could run away, Tommy,” Tubbo says, growing more eager, “Think about it. We wouldn’t have to worry about all of this. This isn’t our fight anymore.”

Tommy shakes his head, “That sounds... great, Tubbo, but, I can’t do that to Wilbur. I can’t give up on him.”

“Well, just think about it,” Tubbo insists, “You don’t have to make up your mind right now. If you want to go, we will. If you want to stay, I won’t leave you.”

”I’m not going to change my mind,” Tommy insists, “I’m sorry, Tubbo, but I can’t abandon Pogtopia.”

”Okay,” Tubbo slumps, “Alright. That’s okay. We’ll stay.”

“Think about how much fun we’ll have, once we take L’Manburg back though!” Tommy says, with a grin.

”Right!” Tubbo gives a bright smile, in return.. Privately, he doesn’t take nearly as optimistic of a view, as Tommy, but he keeps his spirits up, for the other’s sake. After all, it doesn’t hurt to pretend to have hope.

* * *

The last two weeks before the final battle are busy ones. They spend almost all of every day collecting resources and scouting out any possible allies. Tommy had been furious to hear that Jack Manifold had abandoned L’Manburg, to start his own country. The man, however, does agree to fight for Pogtopia, so Tommy does his best to forgive him. He almost manages it.

On the morning of November fifteenth, Tommy leaves the ravine, only to run straight into Eret. Tommy jumps, hand flying to his sword automatically. Even after all this time, he still doesn’t quite trust them. “Tommy!” Eret says, sounding relieved, “I’ve been looking for one of you all night.”

”Why?” Tommy questions warily, taking in the man’s appearance, for the first time. His crown is chipped and broken and his royal cape has been removed from his shoulders. She’s wearing the same grey shirt that she wore before the revolution. Even the glittering rings and bracelets, that they usually wear, are gone now. Something bad had happened; that much was certain.

”Dream stripped me of my title and my throne,” Eret says grimly, “Because I’m going to help Pogotpia fight tomorrow.”

”How does he have the authority to do that?” Tommy questions suspiciously.

”He gave me my power and he can take it away,” Eret shrugs, “It’s only fair, I suppose. I chose my friends over neutrality.”

Tommy hesitates. _Is_ Eret his friend? He supposes that he doesn’t hold quite as much animosity towards them, as he used to. “So, what?” He says, “Is Dream the king now?”

”No. He crowned George, in my stead,” Eret explains and Tommy scoffs.

”Of course he did,” Tommy shakes his head, “Those two are so wrapped up in each other, it’s ridiculous.” 

Eret chuckles quietly. “Do you think Wilbur will let me join Pogtopia?” They ask, after a while.

Tommy snorts, “Who _won’t_ he let in? He doesn’t care anymore, Eret. He just wants Manburg gone.” Tommy looks away from the confused expression on her face. She’ll understand soon enough. Wilbur does, of course, welcome them in, with a twisted smile and a short, cold laugh. He doesn’t trust Eret any more, or less, than he trusts the rest of Pogtopia.

* * *

That last night is spent around the fire. Wilbur tries to play a song, on his guitar, but falters halfway through and can’t manage to finish. Quackity picks up where the ex-president had left off and he and Niki sing the rest of the song together. Their voices blend together to create a comforting, yet sad, tune. 

Wilbur stares into the crackling fire, looking more sane than Tommy has seen him in months. There is a sad, solemn expression on the man’s face and it rattles Tommy more than he’d like to admit. Technoblade sits on Wilbur’s other side; a serious, pensive look on his face. 

Tubbo, Fundy, and Eret all share similarly grim expressions. Nobody is very optimistic for the outcome of tomorrow’s battle. Even Tommy is having trouble holding on to the hope of a happy ending. They fall asleep, one by one. Tubbo slumps against Tommy, while Fundy and Eret lean against each other. Niki’s soft singing is cut off by a yawn and she slowly trails off, as she falls asleep.

Quackity strums at his guitar for a while longer, before his eyelids droop and he, too, begins to fade. Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy are left awake, in a silence that almost feels comfortable. If Tommy tries hard enough, he can remember much happier nights around a warm, cozy fireplace, with all three of his older brothers and _Phil_. Tommy misses Phil. Now, more than ever.

He finally drops off, thinking comforting thoughts of days long past. Vaguely, he feels a shaking hand run gently through his hair and a quiet voice whisper, “Goodnight, Tommy. I’m sorry.” Tommy falls asleep, before he can respond and barely remembers the event, in the morning.

* * *

Tubbo and Quackity are two of the first to wake the next morning. Wilbur had fallen asleep, with a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. When Tubbo glances into the book, he sees music notes and scribbled out lyrics. Wilbur had been trying to write a song.

Technoblade is already gone. No doubt prepping for the battle ahead. The others are still blissfuly asleep. Quackity and Tubbo slip outside, into the open air, trying not to wake the others. “Who do you think the traitor is?” Quackity questions, when they reach the top of a nearby hill.

Tubbo shrugs lightly, “All I know is that it isn’t me.”

”It’s not me, either,” Quackity agrees. “Do you think it might be Tommy?” He asks after a time.

”No,” Tubbo replies, after a moment’s hesitation, “No. He wouldn’t betray us.”

”Alright,” the duck hybrid nods.

”I wish we could run away,” Tubbo sighs, before he can stop himself.

”We can,” Quackity says seriously, “We still have time.”

”It wouldn’t feel right, though, would it?” Tubbo raises his eyebrows at Quackity. 

”I”ll tell you what,” Quackity says eagerly, “We’ll close our eyes and count to three and if we walk this way-“ he gestures towards Manburg, “that means we’ll stay. If we walk the other way, than we’ll leave.”

”Sounds like a plan,” Tubbo says, shutting his eyes.

”One,” Quackity begins. Tubbo can’t abandon his family. 

”Two,” Tubbo continues. Everything would be so much simpler away from this mess.

”Three,” they finish together. Tubbo barely has to think, before he’s walking towards Manburg. When he opens his eyes, Quackity is standing right in front of him.

He smiles, relieved. “Well, I guess we’ve made our choice.”

Quackity shrugs, sticking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “It wasn’t a very hard one, after all.”

”No,” Tubbo agrees, “It wasn’t.”

* * *

They’re gearing up, when Techno makes an appearance and beckons them all to follow him. He leads them all into a small bunker, in the side of a hill, with some pretty good gear. Tommy is grateful for the extra resources, but can’t help wondering why Techno had made such a big deal about it. And then, Techno pulls a lever that had been hidden in the wall. 

The wall opens up to reveal a massive blackstone vault. Tommy hates that material, with a passion, but is excited about the vault, all the same. “This is the vault!” Techno says triumphantly and they all gasp at the enormity of it. There’s enough netherite armor for all of them, with plenty to spare.

Wilbur refuses the set offered him, with a wrinkled nose and a sharp shake of his head. Tommy thinks he’s being a bit of an idiot, but doesn’t say anything about it. Wilbur has never been fond of armor. 

Tommy weighs a netherite sword in his hand, balancing it and taking a few practice swings. It feels good. Much better than the clunky iron one he was used to using. This was light and smooth to the touch, but clearly deadly.

They look to be a formidable group, when they’re all geared up and Tommy feels a stirring of hope. “If we win,” Wilbur tells Tommy in private, “I won’t blow it up. If we lose, than I wll. Got it?”

”Got it,” Tommy says tightly. All the more incentive to win, then. 

”I would say, that no matter what, we have each other,” Wilbur says, “But, we don’t. If this goes wrong than you’ll probably hate me.” Tommy doesn’t have a response. Wilbur is probably right, after all.

”Before we set out,” Quackity calls, “Does the traitor want to step forward and reveal themselves?”

Wilbur raises his hand, with a grin, “I mean, it’s probably me, isn’t it?”

Quackity rolls his eyes and Tommy feels a pang of disappointment. He had half been hoping for the traitor to reveal themselves. He supposes he should have known better. “This is it, everyone,” Wilbur says grimly, “This is where we take it all back. Either that, or we get nothing.”

* * *

The battle is a frustrating one. Neither side appears to gain much ground at all, for a long time. Pogtopia manages to take the towers and that gives them a bit of an advantage, but it’s a long, hard slog to make any progress at all.

A little over an hour into the fighting, Wilbur vanishes, with a muttered excuse and Tommy feels his stomach drop. If Wilbur leaves than they have next to no chance of victory.

“Everyone stop!” Dream shouts, not very many minutes later. Wilbur is by his side and Tommy wishes he was surprised.

”Oh, only if my enemy insists,” Techno says sarcastically, as everyone lowers their weapons.

”We would like to surrender,” Dream continues, “I need to show you all something.” Tommy glances around, hoping that everyone else is just as confused as he is. Dream leads them all to a small shack, where JSchlatt is sitting, in a pile of empty bottles.

”Wilbur?” He slurs, sounding surprised. He’s still drinking out of one of the bottles, looking likely to fall over at any moment.

”What are you doing?” Wilbur questions, sounding disgusted.

”He hasn’t changed a bit,” Quackity says disgustedly, as Schlatt takes another swig of alcohol.

”Fundy?” Schlatt shouts, “What the fuck are you doing here?” Lunging forward, he takes a swing at Fundy, whose head snaps to the side, with the force of the punch.

”You fucked up the country, man! You fucked up everything!” Fundy shouts, turning to face Schlatt once more, “You had a dream and I followed it, but you brought it downhill! You ruined it! I thought you were something!”

”Oh, I’m something,” Schlatt sneers, “I’m something you’re not.” Tommy tenses.

”What?” Fundy yells, “What am I not?”

Getting to his feet, Schlatt stares down at Fundy and says slowly, “I’m a man.” Fundy recoils, with a pained expression on his face, and the shack erupts with yelling.

”Fuck you,” Tommy screams; blood boiling with rage. How _dare_ Schlatt say something like that.

”I don’t care what you have to say, Dream,” Wilbur says stonily, “I’m killing him. Are you ready to _fucking_ die?”

”Kill him,” Niki shouts, in agreement.

”Put an arrow between his eyes, Tommy,” Wilbur orders and Tommy draws his crossbow. His hands shake, as he draws it back and it aims it at Schlatt.

”If I die, this country goes down with me,” Schlatt slurs, smirking.

”No, it doesn’t,” Tommy shakes his head.

”Oh,” Schlatt laughs through his words, “You don’t even wanna know, Tommy Innit.”

”You could have had it all,” Quackity yells, “We could have had everything. I- I don’t even want to _speak_ to you.”

”What do you have to say for yourself?” Wilbur demands.

Schlatt coughs, bringing a hand up to his heart. “Does anyone smell toast?” He asks quietly.

”What?”

”I- I can’t-“ Schlatt stutters and, without another word, collapses to the ground, coughing up blood as he goes.

Quackity draws closer cautiously and rolls him over. He’s not breathing. “Did he just have a heart attack?” Tubbo exclaims, in shock. 

It’s all confusion for the next fifteen minutes, or so, as they question what the fuck had just happened. “Yeah,” Dream finally says, “There was no traitor. I was just lying to scare you all.”

”What?” Wilbur breathes, “I thought I- okay, whatever! Let’s reclaim Manburg.”

* * *

”Tommy,” Wilbur says, “I never thought I’d say this, but take your place on the podium president elect, Tommy Innit.”

Tommy gapes. What the _fuck_? He should be excited and he half convinces himself that he _is_ , but standing in front of everything just doesn’t feel quite right. “After everything,” he says into the microphone, “It was meant to be. Dream, are you there?”

”Oh, I’m here,” Dream calls up to him, “But, I’m not bowing to _you_ , Tommy Innit.”

Tommy lowers his head, making his choice. It’s a difficult one, but it feels right. “As much as I’d love to be president,” he says, “I just can’t.” A ripple of gasps runs through the crowd. “I have unfinished business. Dream still has my discs and I can’t be president, until I get those discs back. My first and only decree is that L’Manburg will once again be called just that. _L’Manburg_.”

Wilbur joins him on the podium, looking incredibly disappointed. “I also cannot be the president,” he says, “I’m going to hand off the presidency. I’m saying goodbye to my L’Manburg and handing it off to someone else. I’m handing it off to Tubbo.”

Tubbo walks up to the podium, looking completely and utterly shocked. “I know it’s probably a bit traumatic for you to be up here, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the presidency. You’re a good kid and an even better spy.”

”Thank you,” Tubbo says shakily, “I- L’Manburg has damages, but I think we can fix this place up. That’s what I want to do, as president. I‘m not going to be an agent of chaos. I’m going to make L’Manburg a peaceful place, where everyone can go.”

Wilbur puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder from behind and whispers into his ear, “I’ll be right back.” Tommy feels a shiver of apprehension, but pushes it aside, in order to cheer loudly for Tubbo. That’s what is important right now. 

He barely has time to hug Tubbo, in congratulations, before fireworks are being shot into the crowd. Whirling around, he sees Technoblade aiming a crossbow at them all. “I did not spend _weeks_ planning this revolution, for you to go in and replace one tyrant, with another,” Techno informs the shocked crowd, “Don’t you see what’s happening? Don’t you see history repeating itself?”

Tommy should have known. He should have known that they couldn’t trust Technoblade. Not after the festival. “Tubbo! Get behind me,” Tommy snaps, “I won’t let him kill you again.”

Before he can even blink, the ground beneath him is crumbling, in an explosion so loud it makes Tommy’s ears ring. He’s blown backwards and crashes into a wall. He dry heaves, when he makes impact; the wind completely knocked out of him. What had happened? Techno can’t have done that. So who?

Wilbur. The answer comes to him. Wilbur had slipped off during the celebrations and now L’Manburg was nothing more than a gaping crater in the ground and a few outlying buildings. “L’Manburg!” Tommy screams despairingly. Gasping for breath and still unable to hear anything, but the ringing in his ears, Tommy calls desperately for Tubbo. 

Tubbo manages to find him and latch onto his arm. “Tommy!” Tubbo is yelling. Tommy’s ability to hear is starting to come back. “Tommy! He blew it up,” Tubbo yells.

”I know!” Tommy shouts back, “We need to stop Techno.” His ears pop painfully and sound floods in, once more. People are screaming and he can hear Techno laughing somewhere close by. Dream’s laugh rings in Tommy’s ears.

”Techno!” Tommy calls, limping towards the man, who he had once seen as a brother.

”Do you think you’re a hero, Tommy?” Techno sneers, “Is that what this is?”

”I just wanted L’Manburg,” Tommy says blankly. What the fuck was Techno talking about?

”You just wanted power,” Techno insists and Tommy shakes his head wordlessly, “But the thing about this world, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. Let me tell you a story, Tommy. The story of a man called Theseus. His country was in danger, so he sent himself forward to enemy lines and slayed the minotaur. Do you want to know what his country did to him?”

”What did they do?” Tommy asks begrudgingly.

”They exiled him,” Techno says simply, “He died alone, in disgrace. That’s what happens to heroes, Tommy. But, if you want to be a hero, Tommy, that’s fine.” He starts, placing black skulls on a structure he had hastily built, “If you want to be a hero, Tommy? _**Than die like one**_ _.”_ He places the last skull and two monstrous creatures rise into the air.

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. He’s heard of these monsters. _Withers_ , they’re called, in old stories. They destroy everything in their path, until they’re killed. And now two are loose in what’s left of L’Manburg.

It’s a hard, bloody fight, but the last scream of the withers fades into nothingness, within twenty minutes. They were easier to kill than Tommy had expected. Regardless, they had done some serious damage, in the short time that they had existed. Techno had fled, in the carnage. “Coward,” Tommy snarls. He’s never hated someone so deeply, as he hates Techno. The man had encouraged Wilbur’s downward spiral, he had killed Tubbo, and now he has done _this_. 

This is all Techno’s fault. Tommy never wants to see him again, unless he can drive a sword through his heart. He pushes his thirst for revenge aside, for the moment, to look for Wilbur. The one person they hadn’t seen, during the fight. He had to be holed up somewhere. Perhaps in the button room.

* * *

Tommy finds the button room easily enough. The podium and the cliffside behind it have been blown open, to reveal the stone room. Tommy stops dead in the entrance, when he sees someone he hadn’t expected to ever see again. _Phil._

He's on the ground, facing away from the entrance, clearly cradling something in his arms. His silver wings are outstretched, on full display. They're tattered and broken and bleeding, no doubt from the explosion. Tommy wonders if the man will ever be able to fly again.

"Phil?" he says tentatively. Phil doesn't respond. "Dad?" he tries. Phil turns his head, in acknowledgement and Tommy nearly recoils. There are tears pouring down the avian's face, mingling with dirt and ash.

"Tommy?" Phil greets, through tears.

"What happened?" Tommy demands, "What are you holding?" Phil's face falls, as he lowers his wings. Tommy takes a few, cautious steps forward.

There, in Phil's arms, is Wilbur. Wilbur, who doesn't look mad, or noble, or anything at all. He just looks peaceful. "I-" Tommy doesn't think he can breath anymore. "He's asleep, right?" Tommy says, in a small voice. He knows the truth. He's not stupid. He sees the bleeding stab wound in Wilbur's chest.

"He begged me to kill him," Phil whispers, "I'm so sorry."

" _You_ killed him?" Tommy demands, feeling betrayed all over again.

"I had no choice," Phil explains, "I- there was nothing I could do."

Tubbo joins them, then, and recoils at the sight that meets him. When he speaks, his voice is shaky, but firm, "We can put him with Schlatt. We'll bury them both tomorrow."

"Tubbo, don't you _care_?" Tommy demands.

Tubbo's face crumples and he sniffs, as he murmurs, "Of _course_ I care, Tommy."

Tommy does his best to hold back his tears. He mostly succeeds, until that night, when he and Tubbo leave L'Manburg to sit together on the bench. It's a bit overgrown with weeds, but it's mostly intact. Sitting on the old, wooden thing gives Tommy a sense of calm that he hasn't had in a long time.

Perhaps it's this, that makes him finally break down. He sniffs once, twice, and then, suddenly, he's crying so hard he can't see. "He's gone, Tubbo," he sobs into the older teen's shoulder, "He's gone."

"I know," Tubbo whispers and then _he's_ crying too.

The two cry themselves out, before just sitting in silence and watching the remainder of the sunset. Had it really only been last night that they were sitting around a campfire, with Wilbur and Technoblade?

"Everything's going to be different. Isn't it, Big T?" Tommy observes.

"Yeah," Tubbo agrees, nodding, "It is. But, we'll still have each other."

"Clingy motherfucker," Tommy grumbles, before, quietly, "Promise?"

Tubbo laughs, "Yeah, I promise, Tommy. Always."

Always. Tommy hopes so. Instead of saying that, he just mutters, "You're so clingy, Tubbo. Ender."

"Whatever makes you feel better, I guess," Tubbo rolls his eyes and Tommy huffs.

Things are going to change, without Wilbur around, Tommy knows it. He already misses him so much it aches. But, maybe, he can learn to live without him. As long as Tubbo remains a constant in his life, Tommy thinks that he can move forward.

Until he gets those discs, he can't stop. He still has unfinished business, with Dream, and he can't lose that war. He can't. Tonight, he will rest, but, from then on, he won't let himself grow complacent, until he's beaten Dream.

And he _will_ beat Dream. Even if he has to sacrifice his final life to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed this one. I’m fairly proud of it and I hope you all like it too <3 I love the Pogtopia arc so much and I’m sad to say goodbye to it.
> 
> If you enjoyed I’d really love to hear from you in the comments! Your comments give me hella motivation!


	7. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of obsidian walls and mushroom houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief child abuse (it’s the start of the exile arc)
> 
> As usual, any lines you recognize come directly from the streams :]
> 
> Btw, for the sake of time, I’m assuming that building in this universe works pretty much like it does in Minecraft.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wilbur’s funeral is a solemn affair. Techno isn’t present; not that he would have been very welcome, but it still hurts that he doesn’t even _try_ to make an appearance. Tommy still remembers a time when Wilbur and Techno were inseparable. Even in recent months, something of their old relationship seemed to have rekindled. Apparently, not.

Phil is present in body, but clearly elsewhere in mind, if the way he constantly shoots glances in the direction Techno had taken off two days prior. Quackity and Fundy had half-heartedly given chase, but had turned back, when it became clear that Techno was too far gone for them to find. _Phil mourned for the whole day yesterday_ , Tommy justifies the man’s preoccupied mind to himself, _he_ _shouldn’t be expected to cry so much for someone he hasn’t spoken to, in years._

Tommy watches the proceedings, with a glimmer of anger and hurt in his eyes. He’s wearing Wilbur’s coat. It’s a comfortable weight around his shoulders, despite the rips and tears and numerous stains. He doesn’t cry today. Why should he? He hates Wilbur for destroying his country. _He can never hate_ _Wilbur_. _Not really_.

Tubbo doesn’t cry, either. He has to preside over the funeral, as president of L’Manburg. He gives a short, polite speech (very similar to the one he had given to Schlatt). He grieves for Wilbur, but he can’t let himself look weak in front of his citizens (and enemies). He stands, upright and stoic, as the coffin is lowered into the ground and covered in a mound of dirt. He cannot be a blubbering child anymore.

Niki is not present at the funeral. To their knowledge, she doesn’t know a thing about Wilbur’s death. Nobody’s had the heart to tell her. 

Phil is the first to leave the funeral, after an appropriate amount of time has passed. He flaps his tattered wings instinctively and lurches halfway off of the ground awkwardly. He makes a small noise of distress and takes off on foot, instead. Tommy watches him dully.

His little family has been cracked and separated and broken, but he had hoped that they still, at least, cared for each other. Clearly, this naive thought isn’t true. Phil had seemed inconvenienced to go to his son’s funeral and Tubbo seems very coldly professional about the proceedings. Technoblade hadn’t shown up at all.

The tombstone reads:

_**RIP Wilbur Soot: Beloved President, Son, Father, Brother.** _

Despite the words; as he sits in front of Wilbur’s grave, Tommy can’t help but wonder if he’s the only person who even still cares about Wilbur. Even Fundy had left before him. He and Tubbo are hurrying off to start construction on New L’Manburg, along with Quackity.

He’s Tubbo’s Vice President, though the position doesn’t stop him from mourning Wilbur for the rest of the day, instead of helping with reconstruction. When he shows up the next day, Quackity accuses him of being lazy. Tommy doesn’t understand _why_ a city is more important than his brother. It leaves him with an ache in his chest and a pit in his stomach that won’t leave, no matter how much he tries to shake them out.

* * *

The reconstruction of L’Manburg is slow going, but most of their houses are built, if nothing else is, by the time Tommy’s sixteenth birthday rolls around, only two weeks later. It’s not very widely celebrated. Phil doesn’t show up at all, though Tommy _knows_ that he had told him about the celebration that Tubbo’s Cabinet had planned on holding. Fundy doesn’t stay long, either, muttering something about wanting to spend time with his grandpa. 

Even Tubbo checks his watch with a grimace and heads out of the door, calling an apology over his shoulder. Apparently he had some sort of meeting with the Badlands. Tommy doesn’t mind. He knows Tubbo is busy. He knows that the present and future of L’Manburg is more important than a stupid birthday party. He’s not stung by the departure at all. That’s what he tells himself.

He and Quackity are left alone, in Tommy’s house. The one in L’Manburg, not his real one. L’Manburg is Tommy’s home, of course, but he’s never been able to grow attached to a house, like he’s attached to that stupid, dirt hut. Tommy clinks his glass of soda against Quackity’s, with a twisted, half-mocking smile. “Cheers, big man,” he says bitterly and he and Quackity both laugh, because what else can they possibly do?

* * *

Tubbo is signing stacks of important documents, when he gets the news. There’s a knock on the door of the room he’s temporarily using as an office space and he calls, “Come in.” His voice is dry and scratchy and it suddenly occurs to him that he hasn’t spoken, or even drank water, in at least a day. 

He fidgets with his pen, in one hand, and uses the other to try and flatten his hair. He’s had a headache for days. Lack of sleep, probably, though he’s noticed that his horns have been growing lately. He doesn’t want his horns to grow. He doesn’t have the time to wonder why.

Quackity pokes his head in and Tubbo instantly straightens at the way his Secretary of State looks pale and frightened. “Um, Mr. President, you might want to see this.”

”What’s wrong?” Tubbo jumps to his feet and ignores the way the room spins around him. He can take care of himself later. His country always comes first. He won’t be like Schlatt. He _can’t_ be like Schlatt. 

”You wouldn’t believe me, if I tell you,” Quackity winces, “It’s... it’s really important.” He leads Tubbo out to the main plaza of New L’Manburg, nearly at a run. Quackity isn’t quite all there anymore. He raves about a ‘Butcher Army’ and wanting to stick a sword through Technoblade’s ribs. Tubbo doesn’t really agree, but there’s not much that he can do about Quackity’s plans. The president already has too many responsibilities to have time to worry about a member of his cabinet planning to bring a war criminal to justice. 

It’s because of this, that he half thinks that the ‘important’ thing is just some half-cocked plan. Tubbo hardly has time to wonder what could possibly be so mysterious and important, when he sees the source of the commotion and stops dead.

Wilbur Soot is standing in the plaza. Well, it’s not _really_ Wilbur. This apparition is pale and see-through and wearing a bright yellow sweater that Tubbo remembers having been a present, from Phil, to Wilbur, when he was a young teenager. Wilbur had worn it, whenever he could, until he outgrew it. Even then, he didn’t pass it down to Tommy, or Tubbo, like he did with many of his clothes. He kept it, instead, in a little box, where he kept all of his most important items.

The being that looks like Wilbur turns to face him and seems to light up, when it sees him. “Tubbo!” He exclaims happily, running over to greet him, “It’s lovely to see you! People have been telling me that _you’re_ president of L’Manburg now, which is really weird, because I thought Tommy was my Vice President, but I don’t remember things all that well, so I could be wrong. Oh! I’m Ghostbur, by the way!”

Tubbo stands in shock, as he listens to Wilbur- _Ghostbur_ ramble. “How are you here?” He finally asks.

”Oh,” Wilbur kicks his foot and it goes straight through the floor, “I’m not sure! I guess I have unfinished business, but I’m not sure what it could be.”

”Oh. Okay then,” Tubbo perks up slightly, “D’you want to see Tommy?” He’s missed Wilbur so much that Tubbo’s _sure_ he’ll be happy to see the man- ghost- whatever. Surely, this would help Tommy out of the angry, irritable mood he’s been in lately.

* * *

It doesn’t. Tommy has trouble interacting with Ghostbur. It’s so strange to see the man who had, so recently, mistreated Tommy for months, before dying, acting like he had, when they were children. Especially after Ghostbur compiles a list of things that he remembers. The list is pitifully short.

 _The smell of bread. L’Manburg. Declaring independence. Bullying Tommy._ Tommy scowls at that one. _Sparring with Technoblade. Watching Fundy grow up. Tubbo building everything._ The list goes on, like this. Things that made Wilbur happy, while he was alive. And nothing else. Nothing at all. Nothing about the stress and pain of the revolution, nothing about losing the election, nothing about Pogtopia, nothing that keeps Tommy up at night and stalks his nightmares.

“Phil protecting me,” Tommy reads aloud and grimaces, as he reads the next line, “Phil stabbing me to death, with a sword.” He looks up at Ghostbur, with a furrowed brow. “That... makes you happy?” He clarifies, biting his lip nervously.

Ghostbur nods cheerily, playing with something like blue dye; twisting it between his fingers and squishing it in a fist, leaving his hands stained. His eyes aren’t quite present, despite him actively participating in the conversation. He doesn’t quite look at Tommy and, whenever someone brings up something negative, he just changes the subject, looking a million miles away.

”It made alive me happy,” Ghostbur says matter-of-factly. There’s a tear in his transparent sweater, right where he had been stabbed to death. Tommy tries to never look at it. The same way he doesn’t like looking at the starburst scar on his forehead, or the long one on his chest. It makes him feel the same way he feels, whenever he lets himself think too hard about the firework scars on Tubbo’s neck and face.

He doesn’t speak to Ghostbur anymore that day.

* * *

And then, comes Ranboo. Ranboo, who stutters and fidgets and can’t make eye contact without stiffening. Ranboo, whose eyes glow a bright red and green. Ranboo, who’s tall beyond normality. Ranboo, who’s clearly not even a little human, however much he might act like one. Ranboo, who somehow gains Tubbo’s trust almost immediately.

Tommy marches right up to the half-enderman on one of his first days in L’Manburg. Tubbo hadn’t had the time to hang out with Tommy recently and the younger teen is starting to get restless. “Can I trust you?” He demands of Ranboo.

”I- I think so,” he says, tail swishing nervously.

Tommy narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Than come help me farm some carrots,” he says, deciding to start on something small. Ranboo agrees easily, rolling up the sleeves of his suit to reveal bony wrists and long claws. 

They farm the carrots outside of Tommy’s house in a mostly comfortable silence. This is the kind of companionship that Tommy has been missing so much from Tubbo recently. The thought makes him sit up, brushing dirt off of his hands, on his jeans. “What do you think about Tubbo?” He asks, faux casually.

”I think he’s nice,” Ranboo responds.

Tommy stares at him for a moment, before scowling. “What do you want with L’Manburg?” He asks next.

”I just want to live there, man,” Ranboo shrugs. “Honestly!” He adds, when Tommy gives him a doubtful look.

”Come on,” Tommy urges, grabbing Ranboo by the wrist, “We’re going to do an activity together.”

”An- an activity?” Ranboo laughs confusedly.

”We’re going to... borrow... things from George’s house,” Tommy turns to grin wickedly at the other teen.

Ranboo pulls his wrist out of Tommy’s grasp, “We- we’re going to steal from someone? Wait, did you say George? As in _King_ George?” 

”That’s the one!” Tommy responds brightly. Darkening, he adds, “Everything bad that’s happened since the election is his fault.”

”What? Why?” Ranboo asks, “Wait, what election?”

”Long story, big man,” Tommy shrugs, still marching towards George’s stupid mushroom house, “But, long story short, this fucker slept through something important and that’s why there’s a crater under New L’Manburg.”

”Oh,” Ranboo says, sounding worried, “So... King George is a bad person?”

Tommy hesitates. Ranboo seems pretty easily impressionable and Tommy wouldn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Finally, however, he settles on a firm, “Yes. And that’s why it’s okay to steal from him.”

”Oh,” Ranboo says again, “If- if you really think that it’s the best course of action, than sure.” Tommy flashes him another grin and takes off at a run.

* * *

When they arrive, they discover that the house is newly built and barely furnished. To Tommy’s great disappointment there doesn’t appear to be anything of much value in the dusty-lidded chests. “Dammit,” he curses, “He must have taken all of his valuables to the castle. I should have thought about that.”

Ranboo subtly slumps in relief, “So, do we just leave?” 

”No,” Tommy says stubbornly, slamming the lid of the chest down, “Let’s graffiti on the walls a bit. It’s not like he comes here much anymore, anyway.” The only tool he has on hand that would be useful for graffiti is a lighter in his pocket, so he takes it in his hand and starts burning a message onto the back wall of the house.

 _Big T and Big R were_ _here_ , he writes, grinning. He hands Ranboo the lighter and the teen almost looks like he’s having as much fun as Tommy, as he writes a squiggly smiley face on the wall. Certainly, he’s getting none of the vicious satisfaction from it, but Tommy’s glad that he’s not the only one having a good time.

Tommy snatches the lighter back, after a moment, and goes outside, staring up at the building. “Where can I make a mark?” He mutters, mostly to himself. He spots the bushes outside of the windows and grins to himself. He has trouble getting the leaves to light, so, in a fit of frustration, he throws the lighter into the bush itself.

It catches fire slowly and, for a moment, Tommy is pleased with his work. And then, the fire spreads to the house itself and his heart drops. “Fuck. Ranboo, can you get me some water?”

Ranboo shakes his head rapidly. “Uh, Tommy?” He says, gesturing at himself.

”Shit. Enderman hybrid. I forgot,” Tommy curses, “Just keep an eye on the fire. I’ll be right back.”

He races to fetch a bucket and sprints to the nearby river to fill it up. He chucks the water over the flaming mess and most of it goes out with a sizzle. The fire that’s left isn’t enough to be worried about. Tommy grimaces, as he looks up at the half-burnt house. Ranboo looks horribly guilty and Tommy tugs on his sleeve. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says urgently and the two take off at a light jog.

Niki and a girl she’s been hanging out with lately (named Captain Puffy) stare at them suspiciously as they clamber back onto the Prime Path. Tommy realizes belatedly that they still smell of smoke. He waves at the two women, with a faux cheerfulness and they wave back slowly.

In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have left their names on the wall.

* * *

When Tubbo had fallen asleep, New L’Manburg had been open and free, just like he had promised it would be. When he wakes up, there’s a massive, obsidian wall blocking the horizon from view, in all directions. Sitting on the top of the wall, examining a netherite sword, is Dream.

”Dream!” Tubbo calls, feeling dread bubble in his stomach, “What the hell is the meaning of this? We have a peace treaty.”

”I’m not the one who broke it,” Dream says, sounding half furious and half smug. 

Other members of the nation start to crowd around Tubbo, as he searches for a response. “Who broke it?” He asks, “Because _I_ certainly didn’t.”

Dream points down at Tommy with a gloved hand. “ _He_ did,” Dream snarls, “Last time I checked, one of the rules to maintain peace, was to not destroy others properties during peacetime.”

”I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, you ugly bastard,” Tommy spits and Tubbo winces.

”Tommy,” he hisses, “I wouldn’t do that right now.”

”Well, who does this bitch think he is?” Tommy snorts. He puts on a mocking, high-pitched voice, “Oh, my name’s Dream and I can do whatever I want just because I founded this country.”

”You burned down George’s house,” Dream accuses, jumping off the wall and landing on his feet, with a thud, “I know you did.”

”You have no proof,” Tommy shoots back.

”Niki saw you leaving the area and George told me that his house burnt down and there was _graffiti_ on the walls. Who else could have done it?” Dream demands. 

”I don’t know, maybe your _boyfriend_ is ‘allucinating,” Tommy says smugly.

”Tommy,” Tubbo says sharply, “You need to be quiet.” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, in shock, laughing nervously.

“If Tommy Innit isn’t punished for this,” Dream says, drawing himself up to his full height, “Then I will declare war on L’Manburg.”

Tubbo blanches. All he wants is peace. Why does war always seem to follow him? “What punishment do you suggest?” Tubbo asks hesitantly.

”Exile,” Dream says simply, “Exile Tommy, or I will declare war.”

Tubbo freezes. How does he make a decision like this? Allow his beloved country to, once again, fall into war? Or exile his best friend? “Let’s- let’s talk this over,” he says hesitantly, “We have a jail that we can take him to and we can talk about things there.”

”I will _not_ be taken to jail!” Tommy screeches.

” _Tommy_ ,” Tubbo says sternly, “You need to come with us.”

* * *

Tubbo takes Tommy by the arm and, firmly but gently, leads him into the holding cell. “You can’t lock me up,” Tommy protests loudly, fighting to wrench his arm out of Tubbo’s grip.

”Tommy,” Tubbo whispers urgently, “I’m on your side, I swear I am. You just need to help me help you, alright?”

”I don’t want to do this!” Tommy argues, “You’re my- you’re Tubbo!”

”I know, I know,” Tubbo says placatingly, “If you play your cards right you should be out of here in no time.” The bars clang shut behind him and Tommy’s chest tightens, as he looks around the small box.

George is standing across from Tommy, glaring at him accusingly. Quackity and Fundy stand on either side of the holding cell and Tommy feels trapped. Ranboo and Karl are both standing, somewhat awkwardly, and watching the proceedings.

”Before we even start,” George says, “I need to be honest. There was a second name in the graffiti.”

”Who?” Tubbo questions, face closing off.

”Ranboo,” George says darkly and Tommy’s heart sinks.

”No, no, no,” he protests hastily, “Look, you can’t just accuse a random civilian.”

”You turned a new citizen against me,” George accuses angrily. 

”Ranboo, explain, please,” Tubbo says in a disappointed tone.

”I, uh, I don’t have a very good memory,” Ranboo admits quietly, “I don’t know what it’s from, but I have a bad memory.”

”Alright, well, that doesn’t help Tommy’s case much,” Tubbo sighs, “Tommy, explain. Without yelling.”

”I can’t promise that I won’t yell,” Tommy snorts.

”No,” Tubbo snaps, “Be quiet.” Tommy draws back slightly. What the hell?

”Y’know what?” Tommy takes a breath, “In my defense? It was hilarious.” The room goes into an uproar at these words. “I didn’t mean to destroy property!” He defends, “I just meant to rob you! Ranboo wasn’t there. It was just me, okay?”

Tubbo pinches the bridge of his nose, looking more pissed off than Tommy has ever seen him. “I was advised to banish you,” Tubbo sighs, “But I think I’ll just put you on probation, for the next two weeks. At the end of every day, you’ll write a report and give it to Fundy.”

”But-“ Tommy starts to protest.

”Tommy, that’s final,” Tubbo says firmly, “You’re a liability, Tommy. You need to be on probation.” Tommy can only stare, as Tubbo unlatches the jail door and marches out of the building.

* * *

Apparently, Dream doesn’t approve of such a light punishment, because, not even two days laters, he requests a meeting with the L’Manburg Cabinet. Tubbo agrees and they choose to meet in a building near Church Prime. 

Tommy can’t stand the way Tubbo is letting Dream walk all over him and it takes everything in his power not to scream right from the start. “Right, so probation for two weeks,” Dream nods thoughtfully, “And if he even steps a _toe_ out of line, than I expand the walls. Taller, thicker, stronger, everything.”

”Right,” Tubbo nods slowly. They all sign the document, even Tommy. Tubbo had told him to be peaceful! He could do that! He could be peaceful!

And then, Dream turns to face him, when nobody else is looking, and the bit of his mouth that is visible under the mask _smirks_. Tommy can’t stand it anymore. He’s sick of people making decisions for him. He’s his own person! He doesn’t need other people to order him around! “Alright, you know what? Here’s the deal, Dream,” he snarls furiously.

Rushing to the E-Chest on the edge of the room, he takes out his key and swings the lid open. Perfect. He pulls out a few scraps of leather that he had stolen from Dream weeks ago. “Remember Spirit, Dream?” Dream stops short. Spirit had been Dream’s old horse. “If you don’t tear down the walls, than Spirit gets it,” Tommy threatens, “I’ll burn Spirit.”

Quackity and Fundy both clap eagerly and Tommy feels a rush of excitement. He can do this. He can pull this off. He can save L’Manburg and himself, from Dream.

For a long moment, it looks like Dream’s going to agree. They have to follow him out of the meeting room and towards the wall around L’Manburg. Tommy, Quackity, and Fundy taunt him the whole way, laughing at him for complying after all of his intimidation tactics.

“This is blackmail,” Tubbo mutters, “This feels like history repeating itself.”

”Nah,” Tommy laughs, “We have something on _him_! That’s never happened before!”

And then, Dream climbs the wall... and starts to build higher. Quackity, Tommy, and Fundy all protest loudly. “Tommy,” Dream says, voice icily calm, “You really fucked up this time.”

”What?” Tommy laughs nervously, as Dream lowers himself to the ground and advances on him.

”I don’t give a _fuck_ about Spirit,” Dream yells, grabbing Tommy by the shirt collar, “I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually. I just care about your discs. I care more about your discs than _you_ do. They’re the only thing I care about. Because, it’s the only thing that gives me power over _you_ and your friends. If you are not exiled from L’Manburg, I will build these walls higher than you can imagine. Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I’ve lost all care about anything.”

”So...” Tommy starts, backing away from the man, “If I burn Spirit right now?”

”Burn Spirit!” Dream challenges, “Do it! I don’t care! All I care about is those discs.”

”Why?” Tommy asks incredulously, “Why do you care so much? They’re _my_ discs.”

”No,” Dream says stonily, “They’re _my_ discs.” With that, he turns and walks away. 

They stand in a stunned silence for a while, before Tubbo sighs. “Tommy, you had one job. All you had to do was be peaceful, Tommy. You couldn’t do one thing for me!” Tubbo shouts, “You’re selfish, Tommy.”

“You can’t be the next Schlatt, Tubbo,” Tommy snaps.

“Yeah? Well, if I can’t be the next Schlatt, then you can’t be the next Wilbur,” Tubbo says icily.

Tommy takes a step back. This is something that he never imagined happening. Tubbo is furious with him and, suddenly, Tommy is a lot less sure that Tubbo wouldn’t ever exile him.

* * *

The night before the decision is to be made, Tommy sits at the top of a tower and stares at the sunset. Ghostbur floats next to him, in a commiserating silence. He clearly doesn’t understand what’s happening, but Tommy’s grateful for the comforting presence. “Tubbo won’t exile me,” Tommy mumbles aloud.

“Of course not!” Ghostbur agrees, “Tubbo loves you!”

Tommy hums noncommittally. “Wil- Ghostbur?” Tommy says hesitantly.

”Yeah, Tommy?” Ghostbur questions, giving him a smile that hurts Tommy’s heart.

He looks away. “If- if Tubbo really _does_ exile me, you’ll take care of me still, right?”

” ‘Course I will!” Ghostbur says happily, “It’ll be just like old times! Just you and me, Toms.”

”Right,” Tommy breathes out slowly, “Thanks, Ghostbur. I really appreciate it.”

”You look sad, Tommy!” Ghostbur points out, “Here! Have some blue!” 

Tommy doesn’t understand why Ghostbur’s so obsessed with blue. He takes some anyway.

* * *

The day comes and Tommy is filled with a nervous energy. Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity meet up only about twenty minutes before the set time. They make a half-hearted plan to fight back, but Tommy thinks that deep down he knows that Tubbo won’t fight. “Tubbo?” Tommy looks into his eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

”Okay,” Tubbo says dully.

”I’m sorry,” Tommy says again and Tubbo looks away.

They meet up at the walls and Tommy stares across the gap at Dream. “Tubbo,” Dream greets, “I trust you. I trust that whatever decision you came to is the right one.”

Tubbo visibly falters and Tommy’s heart sinks. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” Tubbo says, an awkward, half-smile on his face.

”What?” Tommy forces out.

”I’m so, so sorry, Tommy,” Tubbo says again, before turning back around. “Dream, I’ve come to the decision that the best thing to do is to exile Tommy Innit from L’Manburg.”

Tommy sucks in a breath, stepping back automatically. _What_? "Dream? Please escort Tommy from my country.”

* * *

Tommy’s not quite sure of much that happens for the next few minutes. All he knows, is that Quackity and Fundy are arguing with Tubbo and Dream is laughing in dark satisfaction. Before he can even get his bearings, he’s making desperate, betrayed eye contact with Tubbo for one last time, before Tubbo turns his head and leaves Tommy’s sight.

Dream grabs Tommy tightly by the wrist and drags him over to a boat in the nearby ocean. They sail for over an hour, Ghostbur floating along beside them. The ghost chatters mindlessly, but Tommy can barely even hear him. Eventually, they bump into a sandy shore. Beyond the beach, are flat plains stretching out into the distance and oak forests surrounding it on either side. 

Tommy’s legs shake, as he tries to stand on his own, and Dream grabs him by the arm to steady him. The grip is uncomfortably tight and Tommy tugs himself out of it, as soon as he’s sure he can stand upright on his own. He can’t even comprehend what had just happened. Tubbo, his best friend in the world, had just exiled him. It was supposed to be them against the world. What had happened?

The waves crash into the shore and make his pants stick to his skin. He moves up towards the plains and stares around, nearly unseeing. Dream takes a netherite shovel and starts to dig a shallow pit in the earth. “What’re you doing?” Tommy asks, voice raspy. He realizes too late that he’s crying. He wipes the tears off of his face angrily and voices his question again.

”I want you to put all of your armor in the hole,” Dream orders, “And everything in your pockets too.”

”Excuse me?” Tommy laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

”Put your armor in the hole,” Dream repeats, voice not betraying eagerness, or irritation, “It’s a safety precaution, until I know you won’t try to run back to L’Manburg.”

”No,” Tommy shouts, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest, “What are you going to do if I don’t?”

”I will kill you,” Dream says, tone emotionless, as he steps closer to Tommy.”

”I don’t care,” Tommy says obstinately. And then, Dream punches him directly in the face. Tommy cries out in pain; reeling back, with the force of the hit. “Okay, okay, okay,” he says rapidly, “Take it!”

He hastily removes his armor, chucking it all into the hole. “And the items in your pockets,” Dream prompts, a dangerous edge to his voice. Tommy empties his pockets into the hole and takes a step back, when Dream gestures for him to. “You deserve this, Tommy,” Dream tells him darkly, “You’re a selfish, irresponsible brat and you need a reality check.” Tommy doesn’t know why the words hit so hard. Maybe it’s because it’s so similar to the words Tubbo had spoken only a few days before. 

Dream lights a small stick of dynamite and throws it into the hole. ”No!” Tommy shouts, “That’s everything I own!” The dynamite goes off with a bang that makes Tommy flinch. Looking down into the hole, he sees nothing but smoke and scraps of metal.

”Well, you’ll just have to get it back, then,” Dream puts a hand on his head and it feels so condescending that Tommy’s stomach turns. “It wasn’t so hard to do as you were told, was it?”

Tommy clenches his jaw. The whole right side of his face aches, from the punch. “Fuck you,” Tommy growls.

The hand in his hair tightens its grip, for a moment, but, the moment Tommy winces, it lets go and Tommy almost thinks he imagined it. “Well, I’ll see you soon, Tommy,” Dream gives him a mocking salute and gets back in his boat, sailing away. 

Tommy sinks to the ground, the moment he’s sure Dream can’t see him. He brings one hand up to his throbbing cheek and stares at the ground. The punch had truly shocked him. Not even Wilbur at his most insane had ever struck him that hard. Why had Dream done it? Tommy hates the man, but he never expected him to do something like that. 

He finds himself struggling to create excuses and coming up short on each one. He hadn’t deserved it. He _hadn’t_. Sure, even Tubbo clearly thinks he needs to be punished, but surely not like _that_. He doesn’t know anymore.

All he knows, is that, for the first time in his life, he’s completely and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3
> 
> Exile arc, my beloved, how you hurt me.


End file.
